


I Will Wait for You

by kilgraves



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Beaches, Derek is grumpy, EVERYONE IS HUMAN YAY, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Isaac and Erica are siblings, Laura is a queen, M/M, Mama McCall is everything, Scott is an actual puppy, Smut, mentions of child abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-25
Updated: 2014-01-26
Packaged: 2018-01-09 23:13:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 22,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1151940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kilgraves/pseuds/kilgraves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott and Isaac meet at the beach over the summer - and fall in love. But one day, Isaac just disappears and Scott is left wondering what he did wrong for almost a year before they meet again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this monster since mid-July, I think. It's been my baby for months and months, and there were _so_ many times when I didn't think I could finish it, but now it's almost done and I'm so excited for you all to read it. I hope you aren't disappointed :)  
>  This was originally supposed to be a one-shot, but it just kept getting longer and longer, so I decided to split it up into parts instead.  
> I got this idea from [this](http://dnimruoyesol.tumblr.com/post/32824008305/teen-wolf-au-scott-and-isaac-meet-one-summer-on) amazing post.  
> I also made a fanmix to go along with the story, which can be found [here](http://8tracks.com/raelovesyou/i-will-wait-for-you).  
> And last but not least, you can find me [here](http://snugglyscisaac.tumblr.com) on Tumblr.

Scott is seventeen and he doesn’t want to be here.

Truth be told, he hates the beach. There’s no real reason for it, except for the fact that he’s just not a huge fan of being hot and/or sweaty for long periods of time; he’s much more of an indoor guy.

However, his mother, Melissa, is easily the biggest beach enthusiast he’s ever known – hence why she and Scott make their annual trek down to Pacific Beach in San Diego. It’s become a tradition, leaving their real lives behind for a little while and spending the summer in a beach house.

When Scott’s parents first got divorced, his mom had been adamant about getting away. She was scared, and who could blame her? Scott’s father had been a first-rate asshole and second-rate sociopath. He can remember a night where he’d heard her crying in her room, and when he’d gone in to comfort her, she had asked him how he felt about going somewhere they’d never been, somewhere beautiful. The next day, they’d packed a few bags, gotten in the car, and driven until they reached the coast. Melissa had stumbled out of the Lexus, tugging Scott behind her onto a nearby dock, and they’d watched the sun go down.

For the first time in weeks, he saw her smile.

_That_ is why he indulges her, why he never, ever complains or says a word about how much he detests going to the beach. If there’s one thing that Scott loves more than his mother, it’s seeing his mother happy – and the beach makes her happy, always.

\-------------------------------

“Scott, you’re going to have to say something eventually,” Melissa says, chancing a look over at him from her place in the driver’s seat. “We’ll be here all summer, and you can’t possibly stay silent _all_ summer, you have too much to say.”

The corner of his mouth twitches slightly, the beginnings of a smile, but he says nothing.

“Look,” she reaches up to adjust her rearview mirror, keeping one hand on the steering wheel, “I know you’re going to miss Stiles, but it’s just two months. We’ll be back home before school starts, and then the two of you can make up for lost time.”

Silence.

Melissa lets out a long, drawn out sigh, “Scott, come on. You know how much I hate when you’re mad at me.”

He exhales a sigh to match hers, and crosses his arms over his chest, “I’m not mad at you, mom. I’m mostly just bummed about missing out on lacrosse conditioning, that’s all.”

“Oh, good,” she replies, relieved, and then backtracks, “I mean, not good that you’re missing the lacrosse stuff, but good that you’re not angry.” At a red light, she extends an arm to take one of his hands in hers, meeting his eyes, “We’re going to have fun, I promise. And I’m sure you’ll make some friends, you always do.”

Scott thinks about that last sentence; _friends_? When had he ever made friends at the beach? He hardly thinks that Annie Frasier counts, seeing as all she did was stalk the fuck out of him until he agreed to go on a (horrific) date with her. And Ben Thompson had only hung out with him while his real friends were at camp – once they got back, he ditched Scott. He’s gotten used to spending his summers in quiet solitude; reading, watching TV, occasionally going for a swim, and spending a lot of time with his mom.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, forcing a smile onto his face so she won’t worry. “It’ll be great.”

As the traffic light turns green, Melissa presses her foot onto the gas pedal and Scott rests his forehead against the cool window, watching the familiar scenery of Beacon Hills fade away.

\-------------------------------

They’re staying at a new place this year, a little cluster of apartments called Paradise Cove. Scott tries his best to keep an open mind, but the building is painted an obnoxious pink and the air smells like fish and ocean water. He takes a deep breath, prays for this summer to be _different_ , to be special and fun and amazing, before following Melissa’s lead and getting out of the car. They spend a few minutes unpacking the trunk, lugging suitcases into the apartment. Melissa never packs too much, because honestly, they don’t _need_ very much – just the essentials to get them through two months. Once they get the car unloaded, she always drives to the nearest supermarket to pick up food and anything they may have accidentally left at home (because there’s always something they forget to bring).

Before she leaves, Melissa comes out to the balcony where Scott’s leaning against the railing, staring at the open beach and the blue ocean.

“Honey,” she says, pulling him out of his thoughts, “You can go out for a while if you want to. I’m about to run to the store. I think they’re having a drum circle a little ways down the beach – it could be fun, maybe you should check it out?”

Scott shrugs, hands in the pockets of his jeans, and then nods, “Sure, mom.”

“Alright,” she leans in to press a kiss to his forehead, “I’ll text you when I get back. Don’t stay out too late.”

He nods again, only the tiniest bit robotic, and murmurs, “Okay.”

\-------------------------------

The second he steps out onto the beach, he wants to turn around and go straight back to the apartment. There are people _everywhere_ , literally. Parents trying to keep close eyes on their kids as they splash in the water and build sandcastles right in the surf, couples walking hand in hand, laughing and kissing like they’re the only two people in the world, teenagers tanning and smoking and splashing water onto each other. It’s a lot to take in, and he isn’t anti-social or anything like that, but he does feel a certain amount of anxiety spread through him.

He makes his way down the beach, keeping to himself, until he reaches the drum circle his mom mentioned earlier. There’s even _more_ people here, gathered around a group of men with long beards and dreadlocks who bang on bongo drums situated between their legs. The people have made a circle around the men, and in the center of the circle is a group of women and children, dancing freely, smiles on their faces.

It’s nice, and everyone around the circle looks thoroughly entertained, so Scott decides to stay for a while. After all, it can’t hurt to do stuff while he’s here – it’s better for him than moping inside all day. Glancing around, he finds an empty beach chair a little ways away from the cluster of people and takes a seat in it.

His phone vibrates in the back pocket of his jeans a few seconds later, and he pulls it out to see several missed text messages from Stiles lighting up the screen:

**6:34 pm:** _Dude, you’re so freaking lucky you get to miss out on conditioning. It sucks so much ass._

**6:36 pm:** _Coach had us do, like, a million suicides today and I swear to god, I almost died and went to a heaven where there’s no such thing as lacrosse._

**6:48 pm:** _How’s the beach?_

**7:05 pm:** _Is it unbelievably lame of me to say that I miss you?_

**7:07 pm:** _Because I do. Miss you._

Scott grins, because even though they’re texts, he can almost hear Stiles’ voice saying all of this stuff. He quickly types out a reply:

_I wish I were there. Coach is going to kill me for missing it. Nah, dude, I miss you too. It’s always weird being away from you for a long time. I hate coming here but I’m trying not to be a whiny dick about it for once. And, hey, think of the whole lacrosse thing this way: Lydia Martin loves athletic guys ;)_

For all the shit he’s been known to talk about the beach, this really isn’t all that bad. It’s just around sunset, so it’s cool, not too hot and not too cold, and he has to admit that the sound of the waves mixed with the steady beat of the drums is peaceful, calming. He slips his phone back into his pocket and allows himself to drift off, resting his head against the back of the chair and closing his eyes.

“Hey – sleeping beauty,” an unfamiliar female voice says, harshly, “I know it’s a nice night and all, but seeing as you’re sitting in _my_ chair, can you kindly get your ass up?”

Scott’s eyes fly open as he jerks against the seat, eyes cloudy with sleep and a patch of drool just starting to dry at the corner of his mouth. He should be embarrassed, but he doesn’t have time to be because there’s a girl standing a few inches away from him, one hand on her hip and the other holding a red solo cup.

“What?” He mumbles, groggily, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands.

The girl smiles, the kind of smile that gives new meaning to the phrase ‘if looks could kill’, and leans down so she’s level with his face, “You’re in my chair, honey. Get _up_.”

“Oh,” he nods quickly, pushing himself up out of the seat, “Sorry, I didn’t know anyone was using it.”

She shrugs, sitting down and taking a sip of her – presumably alcoholic – drink, “Well, now you do.”

Scott is disoriented, drowsy and still not sure what the fuck just happened. He’s about to walk away, when a boy appears at the girl’s side. Although quite like the girl in appearance, he’s taller, with curly, sandy brown hair, pale skin and a severely impressive jaw-line.

“Erica,” he murmurs, his tone severe but also fond, “You know you don’t have to be a bitch to every single person we come across?”

Erica pushes her long blonde hair off her shoulders and grins up at the boy, lips framed with dark red lipstick, “I don’t _have_ to, I _choose_ to.”

The tall boy rolls his eyes, turning his attention to Scott, whose mouth is hanging open stupidly as he watches them. “Sorry about her,” he says, good-natured as all hell, “She’s not very good with people.”

“I heard that!” Erica cries, smacking him on the leg playfully before taking another sip from her cup.

Scott blinks slowly, and then murmurs, “No, uh, no problem.”

“I’m Isaac, by the way,” the boy tells him, and points to Erica, “This is my – abrasive – sister, Erica.” She raises her red solo cup into the air at the mention of her name, as if giving a toast, and Scott smiles.

“I’m Scott,” he replies, swallowing his nerves. “Do you two live around here or are you on vacation, too?”

Erica snorts, and adopts an accent that would put any of the girls in _Clueless_ to shame, “We’re from the valley – can’t you, like, tell?”

“She’s joking,” Isaac says, curtly, “We’re from San Francisco; our dad just likes coming here. We’re staying all summer.”

_Wow_ , Scott thinks to himself, sliding his hands back into the safety of his pockets. _They’re pretty far from home._ “How old are you?”

“I’m sixteen,” Erica replies, holding her fingers up in a rock ‘n’ roll symbol and sticking out her tongue.

“I just turned seventeen two weeks ago,” Isaac counters, much more subdued than his sister; Scott can already see how different the two of them are.

Just as he’s about to respond, his phone vibrates dully. When he pulls it out, he sees a text from his mom: ‘ _Just got home. It’s getting dark, u need to start heading back here_.’

He mentally kicks himself for this, but says, “I have to go, I’m really sorry. It was nice meeting you both–,”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait a second,” Isaac interjects, catching Scott gently by the arm before he can get away, “We were just starting to get somewhere, why do you have to go so soon?”

“Yeah, Scott,” Erica purrs, pressing her arms to her chest so that her already-prominent breasts become even more prominent, “Hang out with us.”

It’s tempting. _They’re_ tempting, these two beyond interesting strangers. And this is quite possibly the most tempted Scott has ever been to do anything in his life, but he can’t leave his mom all alone, not on their first night here.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, and Isaac lets go of his arm. “I-I just, I have to go.” Isaac furrows his eyebrows, Erica puffs out her bottom lip, and Scott really wishes he didn’t have to leave them behind. “Maybe I’ll see you two around?”

“You should come to the ice cream place down the street.” Isaac’s eyes are remarkably sincere and it’s something Scott isn’t used to seeing in kids his age. “Erica and I work there on weekdays.”

Erica smiles, everything about her screams confidence, “Definitely come and see us sometime, cutie pie.”

“I will,” Scott replies. He grins at both of them, before saying goodbye and making his way back to the apartment building. It doesn’t take him long, which is strange because he could swear the walk down to the drum circle was longer than ten minutes. When he pushes open the door to their apartment, he finds his mom passed out on the couch, the television turned to some dumb show about bridal gowns. He smiles and moves to cover her with a blanket, tucking it over her shoulders.

As he picks up the remote to turn the TV off, his mother’s sleepy voice meets his ears, “Scott? Sweetheart, is that you?”

“Yeah, mom, I’m right here.”

She reaches for him drowsily and he takes one of her hands in his. “Did you have fun at the drum circle?”

“I actually did,” he nods, “I met some kids my age and they seemed really cool. Their names were Isaac and Erica, and they told me that they work at this ice cream store down the road, so I thought I’d–,”

His mom lets out a loud snore, and Scott realizes she’s already fallen back to sleep. Rolling his eyes, he lets go of her hand and walks around the corner into one of the two bedrooms the tiny apartment has to offer. He’s quick to get into bed, because tomorrow is Monday – which means tomorrow he can go to town and find the two fascinating people he came into contact with today.

Maybe – _hopefully_ – this summer won’t suck for a change.

\-------------------------------

The next morning, he does everything in a rush. He throws his clothes on – it actually takes him two tries since the first time he does it, he accidentally puts on one of his mother’s shirts because their suitcases look similar, okay – eats a quick bowl of Cocoa Puffs, brushes his teeth, kisses his mom on the cheek and is out the door by ten AM. It occurs to him that he has little to no clue where said “ice cream place” actually _is_ , but he thinks this will be a good chance for him to get a feel for the town.

As towns go, it’s relatively small – but then again, he’s used to small towns, coming from Beacon Hills. Some of the scenery is familiar: the seafood restaurant he and his mom went to for his birthday three years ago, back when he’d still been convinced that they served the lobsters to you live, the bookstore he used to come to whenever it rained. However, some other buildings are distinctly _un_ familiar, yet still look so inviting. There’s a tiny coffee shop, a record store – attracting a number of sleek, cool looking patrons – and, tucked away on the corner right by the street, stands a small but seemingly busy ice cream shop. Scott raises a hand to shade his eyes as he looks up and reads the sign on top of the building: Hale’s Ice Cream Parlor. Even though he’s unsure whether this is the place Isaac mentioned last night, he figures there’s only one way to find out and heads inside.

Immediately upon pushing the door open, he’s met with a bunch of sweet smells and a large bustle of people waiting in line in front of the counter. There’s a ton of posters covering the teal-painted walls, including a few plaques and framed newspaper articles about the shop. Scott glances to the left and sees a health inspection form pinned up behind the counter, with a large 99 written in red ink at the top.

Not wanting to piss anyone off – seeing as there’s a significant line of eager customers waiting for their ice cream – he opts to get in line as well, slipping his hands into his pockets, something that’s second nature to him. He tries to see over the tops of people’s heads, but he’s short and there’s too many so he gives up pretty quick. The radio playing over the loudspeakers is set to some pop station, and he can make out a female voice singing, but can’t determine whom it is.

The line moves relatively fast, which is good because he’s hardly a patient guy. When he finally makes it up to the front, he sees Isaac with his head down, putting money into the cash register absentmindedly. Erica is behind him, re-stocking one of the many tubs of ice cream, her hair in a tight braid.

“What can I get you tod–” Isaac looks up from the register and smiles instantly when he recognizes Scott’s face. “Oh, hey, dude! We weren’t sure if we’d see you again after last night. You just couldn’t stay away, huh?”

Scott reaches up to scratch the back of his neck, aware of the faint blush creeping onto his cheeks and laughs, “It wasn’t hard to find the place.”

Erica spins around and when she sees him, her whole expression changes. “Hey, Scott! Long time no see, cutie. It’s been – what? – less than twenty-four hours?”

“Hi, Erica,” Scott replies, waving bashfully and turns his attention back to Isaac. “I could totally go for two scoops of chocolate in a–” he squints at the menu over Isaac’s head, “–waffle cone, please.”

Isaac nods, “Coming right up,” and Erica starts rushing around, picking up a cone and a scooper.

Scott digs into his pocket and pulls out a few bills. “How much is it?”

“No charge, buddy,” Isaac tells him, out of the corner of his mouth, clearly not wanting anyone else to hear, “We don’t make cool people pay for–,”

“ _Isaac_ ,” a stern male voice interrupts from somewhere behind Erica, who’s about to hand Scott the ice cream cone but freezes when she hears the man’s voice, “We’re a _business_ , which means we make _everyone_ pay for their food, which also means no exceptions for ‘cool people.’”

Isaac rolls his eyes just slightly, enough so that only Scott can see, as the source of the voice is revealed: a very large, very muscular, very good-looking man. He looks to be about in his mid-twenties, with dark hair, severe eyebrows and a gruff demeanor.

“Aw, come on, Derek,” Isaac whines, as the man – Derek – comes forward, “He’s a friend of ours, he doesn’t have to–”

“Just take his money, alright? There are people waiting,” Derek’s tone is low and full of authority, and Scott guesses that he must be Erica and Isaac’s boss.

There’s a number of seconds in which Isaac doesn’t move, his jaw set, and then Erica takes charge, speaking kindly: “It’s two-fifty, Scott, sorry about all this.”

Scott shakes his head, indicating that it’s no problem whatsoever, and hands Isaac three bucks. When he gives him fifty cents change, Erica passes his cone to him, an uncomfortable smile on her face.

“ _There_ ,” Isaac mutters, annoyed and directing his next word to Derek, “Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” Derek replies in a monotone.

After that, Scott moves out of the way so that the rest of the line can get what they came for, waiting for the crowd to thin out so he can talk to his new friends. The ice cream is good, and it doesn’t take him long to finish it, at which point he tosses the remnants of the cone and sits down at a table in the corner. He didn’t realize just how busy this little shop was – since he got out of the line, at least fifteen more people have filed in.

Around noon, the line becomes less of a line and more of a gaggle, and by twelve-thirty, it’s just him and two other customers sitting in the place. Scott watches Derek hand Erica a broom to sweep the floor, while Isaac goes back to counting the money in the register, and stands up, moving over to the counter.

“So, is it always this busy in the mornings?”

Isaac glances over at Erica, and then says, “Yeah, we’re busiest in the morning and late afternoon – before and after people go to the beach.”

Before Scott can respond, the bell over the door chimes and a woman walks in, looking flushed and hurried. “I am going out of my _mind_ ,” she groans, moving forward to stand a few inches away from Scott at the counter.

Erica smirks, but it’s not unkind, “Business not exactly booming today, Laura?”

The woman, Laura, is tall and thin, with long brown hair that cascades down her back like a waterfall. Scott can’t help but notice how similar she and Derek are in some of their features; both have prominent cheekbones and jaw lines, both have soft hazel eyes and near-perfect teeth.

“I swear,” Laura says, exhaling a quick sigh, her tone bitter, “It’s like no one reads books these days. It’s all about reading on your iPad or Kindle or whatever stupid new device is relevant.”

“So now you see why I hate my days at the book store,” Derek huffs under his breath.

Laura ignores him, addressing Erica, “Just give me something with a _lot_ of chocolate in it, please. And make it fast – I can’t be gone for very long.”

When Laura sees Isaac motioning to Scott, she straightens up and turns to him, eyes shining. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around here before – what’s your name, brown eyes?”

“Scott,” he replies, only slightly awkward and when she extends a hand to him, he shakes it.

“I’m Laura Hale,” she smiles brightly, and then shoots a look to Derek. “Please tell me you’ve been polite and introduced yourself to this sweet boy.”

Derek says nothing, but Isaac pipes up: “We were in the middle of the morning rush when Scott got here. We didn’t really have time for introductions.”

“Ah,” Laura breathes, before turning back to Scott, “I’m going to guess that you already know Isaac and Erica? You seem about their age.”

Scott nods, slowly. “I met them last night at the drum circle on the beach. They told me they worked here, so I, uh, came by. Do you work around here, too?”

“I do,” she answers, briskly, as Erica hands her a cup of ice cream. “My family owns this shop, and the bookstore across the street…” She trails off, looking Scott up and down with an air of curiosity, and then says, “You know, Derek, I think Erica and Isaac could use an extra pair of hands around here. Maybe you should consider giving Scott a job?”

Scott’s face lights up at that, and he spins around to look at the three people behind the counter, a little too excited as words tumble out of his mouth: “I’d actually love that, that would be _awesome_ , when can I start?”

Derek shoots a mock-nasty look at Laura, and mumbles, “Thanks, sis.”

“Hey, I’m just trying to help you out, little brother.” She shrugs, before starting out the door. “I’ll see you all tomorrow, bright and early!”

Once the door swings shut behind her, Isaac turns to Derek with a hopeful smile on his face. “It would be pretty sweet to have another person working here.”

Erica sidles up to Derek on the other side, so he’s boxed in between the two siblings, and says, in a singsong voice, “We could serve people faster, which means we could make more money.”

“Fine,” Derek says flatly, looking to Scott, “You can start tomorrow, alright? Fuck, the two of you are already annoying enough – I’m so _glad_ we’re recruiting a third teenager to be a pain in my ass.”

“Oh, stop whining,” Erica chastises, grabbing one of Derek’s arms and hugging it like a five year-old, “You know we make your life more interesting.”

Derek doesn’t answer, just grumbles under his breath and walks past them to go into the back room, shutting the door roughly. The siblings are quick to go back to their duties: Erica sweeping the rest of the floor and Isaac finishing up counting the money.

“What’s the deal with Laura and Derek?” Scott asks, pushing himself up to sit on top of the counter. “They’re brother and sister, too?”

“Yeah,” Isaac replies, closing the drawer of the register and leaning against the counter, level with Scott. “Their family are the Hales, which is why this place is called ‘Hale’s Ice Cream Parlor’ and the book store across the street is called ‘Hale’s Book Nook.’”

“She and Derek are in charge _all_ the time,” Erica adds, dumping the debris she’s picked up with the dustpan into the trash before joining Scott and her brother. “They switch off, meaning that Derek works here one day, and she works here the next. It’s the same with the bookstore; Laura works one day, Derek the next. So, I guess you’ll get to know them better since you’ll be working here.”

Scott nods. “I guess I will.”

“So,” Erica changes the subject, a mischievous grin spreading across her face as she nudges Scott’s knee with her elbow, “You’re coming out with us tonight, yeah?”

“After all, we _are_ friends now,” Isaac chimes in, a similar smile on his lips, and it’s times like this when Scott remembers they’re siblings.

Scott shrugs, _not_ nervous but also _very_ nervous which makes no sense. “Sure, yeah, that sounds fun. Where are we going?”

“You’ll find out,” Erica giggles and Scott isn’t sure what to think of it, but he doesn’t care. At least he has friends for a change – it means he won’t be lonely while he’s stuck here.

“Give us your number so we can text you,” Isaac says, pulling out his phone. Erica does the same, and they spend a few minutes passing around each other’s numbers, until they’re all programmed into their phones.

Scott tucks his phone back into his pocket, noting the fact that he has missed texts from Stiles to read later, and gets down from on top of the counter. “I need to get back to my mom. I’ll see you guys tonight, okay?”

“Totally,” Erica purrs, excitedly.

“Yeah,” Isaac nods and Scott laughs when he mimics his sister, “ _Totally_.”

\-------------------------------

It takes him about thirty minutes to walk back to the apartment, and when he pushes open the door, the clock on the wall reads 2:08 pm. Melissa is sitting on the couch, a half-eaten bowl of ramen on the table in front of her, and watching television.

She smiles widely when she sees Scott, “Hey, sweetie, how’d it go? Did you find your friends?”

“Yeah,” Scott replies, moving into the kitchen and looking for food, “And I got a job – I start tomorrow.”

“Really?” Her tone goes from apathetic to overjoyed in a matter of seconds, “That’s wonderful! I’ve always said a summer job could be good for you.”

She goes on to ask him a few more questions – about the shop, Erica and Isaac – and he answers them briskly, downing a glass of orange juice in-between sentences.

When he tells her that they’ve invited him to go out with them tonight, she gives him the usual speech about being responsible and coming home on time. It both amazes and comforts Scott how trusting his mother is of him. She’s always been like that, ever since he was a kid. Maybe it’s because even though he and his mother have been through a lot, especially in the last couple of years, he’s never taken it out on her. He’s never gone through a rebellious phase, like most kids his age. It’s not that he’s goody-two-shoes, because he’s not – he’s just always been really good at knowing right from wrong.

Fifteen minutes later, he’s lying down on his bed, face-up, and pulling out his phone to check his messages. There’s three from Stiles, and one from Isaac.

He opens the ones from Stiles first:

**11:13 am:** _Oh my god, dude, I don’t know if I’m going to survive conditioning. It’s beyond brutal. If you don’t get any texts from me after six, it’ll probably be because I’ve died._

**12:24 pm:** _I hate Coach I hate Coach I hate Coach I hate Coach I hate Coach I hate Coach I hate Coach I fucking hate Coach._

**1:56 pm:** _I hope you’re having more fun than I am right now, holy crap, I can’t feel my legs._

Scott rolls his eyes – typical Stiles – and types out a reply:

_Deep breaths, man. Namaste, or something. I bet Lydia’s been at all the practices, since Jackson’s going out for first line this year. Just think of that as your motivation._

He waits for it to send, and when the progress bar at the top of the screen shows that it has, he taps the ‘messages’ button and opens the one marked with Isaac’s name. It’s from a few minutes before he got home:

**2:06 pm:** _This is probably going to come out sounding awkward and maybe slightly creepy, but I’m sort of really psyched that you’re going to be working at the shop. There, I said it._

Scott is quick to reply:

_Oh, really? Why’s that?_

**2:31 pm:** _One, because you seem cool and, two, because I could really use a friend that’s not my sister._

_You don’t have friends? I find that hard to believe._

**2:36 pm:** _It’s true, so._

_You mean you don’t have friends down here, right? Because, hey, neither do I._

**2:43 pm:** _No, I mean I don’t have friends. I don’t really have anyone._

Scott stares at the typed words for a minute, because surely, Isaac at least has _some_ friends. He can’t honestly have no one apart from Erica.

_Well, now you do._

It takes Isaac a long time to reply; so long that Scott is asleep by the time his phone buzzes against his leg. He yawns, rubs his eyes and picks it up to read Isaac’s message:

**4:58 pm:** _This is_ _definitely going to come out sounding awkward and creepy, but that means a lot to me. So, thanks, I guess. We should hang out some time, just you and me._

He isn’t exactly sure why, but his stomach does a back flip when he reads Isaac’s words.

_Yeah, dude, that’d be awesome. Any time, I’m always free._

The next time his phone vibrates, it wakes him up yet again. Unlocking it, he sees it’s a message from Erica, typed in all-caps:

**8:16 pm:** _SCOTT U BETTER B READY 2 GO WHEN WE GET THERE WE R ON THE WAY!!!!!!!!!!_

Scott blinks down at his screen, unsure of how he slept for so long, and forces himself to get out of bed. He’s quick to throw on a fresh pair of pants, along with a clean shirt, and run a brush through his hair absently, not really giving two shits how he looks.

When he walks out into the living room, his mom laughs, “Uh, honey? You’re only wearing one shoe.” 

By the time he actually has himself together, he hears a car honk twice outside, and guesses that must be Isaac and Erica. He gives Melissa a kiss on the cheek, stuffs the apartment key in the pocket of his jeans, and hurries out the door.

\-------------------------------

“You’re _sure_ this is the place?” Scott asks, blinking as he stares out of the car window, eyes wide.

He sees them exchange those same mischievous smiles from earlier out of the corner of his eye, before Isaac replies, “We’re sure – we come here all the time.”

Scott gulps. When they’d said they wanted him to go out with them, he didn’t think they meant to a club. Looking back on that, he realizes he _should_ have known, and mentally kicks himself in the balls for being an idiot. The building is shabby, but not a total dive, and there seems to be a wide range of people waiting in line at the door – teenagers and adults alike. The sign above the double doors reads ‘Heat’ in neon letters, and Scott isn’t sure what to expect but if it’s anything like ‘Jungle’ – a gay club back home – he’s in for one helluva night.

Once Isaac parks the car, they all get out, and Erica is quick to grab Scott’s hand, holding one of Isaac’s in her other, squealing, “This is going to be so much _fun_!”

Oddly enough, when they get to the door, they don’t have to wait like all the other people in line. Erica saunters up to the bouncer – a burly, black guy who looks like he could take on a small army and live to tell the tale – and stands on her tiptoes to whisper something into his ear, while Isaac smirks. Seconds later, the man is stepping away from the door, and motioning for them to file in.

“What the hell did you say to him?” Scott asks, yelling over the music that drowns them out the minute they step inside the club. Erica merely smiles from ear to ear, not saying a word, instead pulling Scott and Isaac behind her onto the dance floor.

It’s new to Scott: clubbing. He’s not much of a dancer, and he doesn’t exactly ooze confidence – but he decides early on that he’s going to have a good time. At first, he doesn’t move a lot, even as the two siblings he’s with dance their asses off. After a while, however, he starts to feel more and more comfortable with his surroundings and with himself. Maybe it’s the drinks Erica keeps providing him with, maybe it’s the fact that Isaac won’t let him sit down, but he quickly turns into what his friend Danny would call a ‘hot mess’.

“You know something weird?” Scott yells into Isaac’s ear, alcohol coursing through his veins as he jumps in time to the music, “I fucking _hate_ the beach!”

He isn’t sure what he expects Isaac to say in response to this, but the tall boy just laughs, taking a sip of his drink and dancing smoothly. Erica already has a guy on her arm, grinding her hips into his while swinging her long hair back and forth. Scott can tell that Isaac doesn’t like the way his little sister is acting, but he doesn’t do anything to stop her (honestly, Scott doesn’t think he _could_ stop Erica from doing whatever she wants). Still, he watches as Isaac looks anywhere but in her direction, taking a long drink from his cup.

Soon enough, Isaac pulls him away from the dance floor and over to a quieter part of the club, with sofas to sit on. When they sit down beside each other, Scott is the first to speak: “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just, she just,” he presses the heels of his hands to his eyes, taking a breath, “She drives me insane sometimes. She’s so… ugh, I don’t even know. Ever since our mom died, she–,” he breaks off, looking at Scott wanly, and backtracks, “Erica’s always been the rebellious one, I guess. Back home, she gets teased a lot at school. The girls in her grade spread rumors about her all the time, they call her a slut.”

“But she isn’t,” Scott says, quietly, resting a hand on Isaac’s shoulder, reassuringly, “I know she isn’t.”

“I do, too,” Isaac agrees, “I just wish she didn’t always try so hard to act like one.”

Scott doesn’t know what to say after that, so he just watches Isaac. He shouldn’t, but he does. He watches the way his fingers look as he cards them through his curly mess of hair. He watches the way his lips become even redder when he licks them than they are naturally. He watches the way his eyelashes flutter as he looks down as his feet. It’s weird, because he’s only known him for two days, but Scott already feels close to him – and Erica, too. He doesn’t like seeing him in a bad mood, doesn’t want him to be sad.

When he gets up the nerve to speak again, he murmurs, “After, uh… After my parents split up, I felt like I _should_ rebel, you know? I wanted to be angry – I _was_ angry. But I couldn’t do anything about it because my mom needed me. Or, at least, I felt like I needed to be there for her.” He shakes his head, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t, uh – you… I shouldn’t be talking about this, I’m–,”

“No,” Isaac cuts him off, eyes sincere and honest, “It’s okay. It’s okay, I… I wish my mom were still around. She knew all the right things to say. She never would’ve let Erica do any of the shit that my dad lets her – _us_ – get away with.”

“When did she…?”

“Four years ago,” Isaac replies, “It was bad, really bad, but we kept going. My dad is still… I don’t think he’s over it, but I’m okay. Erica’s okay. I try to look out for her, it’s just hard...” He trails off, eyes darting to the dance floor, eyebrows creasing with worry.

“Isaac?” Scott asks, confused, “What’s wrong?”

“Erica,” he breathes, jumping to his feet and starting towards the crowd of people, while Scott follows close behind, trying to figure out what’s going on. Isaac pushes people out of his way, ignoring their protests. “Erica!” He shouts, looking all around. Scott cranes his neck, searching the crowd for a beautiful girl with long blonde hair, but doesn’t see her anywhere. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he can hear Isaac cursing under his breath, and then–

“Isaac!” Erica’s voice meets their ears and Isaac whirls around, reaching out to take his frightened-looking sister’s hands in his.

“Thank-fucking-Christ you’re alright,” he sighs, relieved, “I thought you were–,”

“ _Isaac_ ,” she whimpers, eyes shining with the promise of tears, “I can taste blood in my mouth.”

It’s as though all the air goes out of the room; Isaac freezes, his whole body tense, his grip on Erica’s hands tightening protectively as he hisses, “No, no, no, _fuck_ , okay, we’ve got to get you out of here – come on.”

Scott has no clue what’s going on, but he comes forward to help Isaac half-drag, half-carry a trembling Erica out of the club. Isaac is whispering things to her, but Scott can’t make out any of it. They make it to the parking lot before Erica starts to shake. Scott can tell it’s serious because it’s not the kind of shaking someone does when they’re cold or scared – Erica is shuddering, her body curling in on itself violently.

“Shit, put her down,” Isaac barks to Scott, and they set her down on the pavement gently – or, as gently as they can manage to as she continues to convulse, moaning sounds falling from her lips.

Isaac kneels, turning her so that she’s lying on her side, and Erica grabs one of his hands, clinging to it like the only solid thing in the world.

“What’s happening to her?” Scott asks, hoping he doesn’t sound as stupid as he feels.

“She’s seizing,” Isaac mumbles, voice thick, stroking Erica’s hair slowly, “She’s epileptic, but she h-hasn’t had a seizure in weeks. She’s been t-taking her meds every morning, I didn’t – I didn’t…”

Scott moves to sit next to Isaac on the ground, resting a warm hand on his shoulder, “It’s not your fault. She’s going to be okay, though, right?”

“Unless this goes on for much longer, yes,” Isaac whispers, hands trembling in time with Erica’s body – although Scott can see that she isn’t shaking nearly as much as she was when it started. “If it lasts longer than five minutes, I’ll have to take her to the hospital.” But, about a minute later, Erica stills, her breathing returning to a normal pace and her grip on Isaac’s hand loosening. Scott starts to take his hand off of Isaac’s shoulder, but Isaac catches it with his own, squeezing appreciatively, “Thanks for not ditching us – most people would have freaked.”

“I guess I’m not most people then,” Scott responds, breathlessly, and Isaac smiles.

There’s a soft groan, and then Erica is opening her eyes, “What happened?”

“You had a seizure,” Isaac replies, adopting the sort of tone one would use in the presence of a very small child, and Scott can tell he’s been in this position many times before, “Do you feel alright?”

Erica blinks and sits up gingerly, steadying herself by holding onto Isaac’s arm, “I feel okay. C-Can we go home?”

Isaac says nothing, instead pulls his sister forward, wrapping his arms around her tightly. Scott moves back to give them space. He feels like he really shouldn’t be here, like this should be private, but Isaac seems to want him there. Erica looks very small, fingers clutching loosely at the fabric of Isaac’s shirt, as he kisses the top of her head, “Yeah, we can.”

The ride home is quiet, save for the faint music issuing from the radio. Erica is lying down in the back, Scott in the passenger seat while Isaac drives, gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles.

“Before it happened, Erica said she could taste blood in her mouth,” Scott’s voice is tiny, “What does that – _why_ did that happen?”

“It’s called an aura,” Erica explains from the backseat and Isaac nods, “It’s like a warning. I get them before I have a seizure, every time.”

“But,” Scott can’t seem to stop himself saying what he says next, his curiosity getting the better of him, “Isn’t that… _scary_?”

There’s a silence that follows his words, the kind that makes you feel anxious and itchy. As they pass under the scattered street lamps on the sides of the road, Isaac’s face is illuminated. Scott can tell he’s trying not to think about what just happened, and that he’s blaming himself. He shoots a glance to Erica in the backseat; she’s pale, ghostly, and looks more tired than Scott’s ever seen a person look before. He can feel exhaustion creeping into his veins, clouding his eyes and making him want to sleep for at least a couple of years before waking up again.

“Yes,” she replies, quietly, simply, “It is.”

By the time Isaac pulls up in front of Paradise Cove, Erica is asleep and Isaac keeps his voice low as he murmurs, “Thanks for everything tonight, man. I’ll see you tomorrow morning, alright?”

“Definitely,” Scott replies, quietly, before waving goodbye as Isaac pulls out of the driveway.

When he crawls into bed, it’s at least midnight and he pulls out his phone to reply to the texts he knows he’ll have missed from Stiles. He types out his responses without giving them much thought; because all he can think about is the way that Isaac grabbed his hand earlier.

Grabbed it, and held on.

\-------------------------------

The next morning, when he shows up at the ice cream parlor, he finds just Isaac and Laura there, getting ready to open. When Scott asks where Erica is, Isaac tells him that he made her stay home and rest for the day, then quickly starts in on showing Scott the ropes of the job. Isaac shows him where everything is, how to work the cash register (it’s a lot harder than it looks okay), and when to re-stock the ice cream tubs. It all seems easy enough, and Scott thinks this’ll be fun; working with a friend.

The day passes in a blur of sugar, people, and laughter. The morning rush is crazy, the afternoon even crazier, and Scott makes more than a few dumb mistakes – but apart from that, it goes really, really well. When it comes time to close up, Laura goes into the back room to count the money, while Isaac sweeps the floor and Scott wipes the counter down.

“You did a really good job today,” Isaac murmurs, and when Scott looks at him, he can see a flush creeping onto his cheeks, before adding: “Newbie.”

He would be lying if he said his stomach didn’t do a somersault, but his reply comes out smooth and level: “Thanks, Isaac.”

As the days go by, he tends to catch himself staring at Isaac, and he tries not to make it _too_ obvious – but who’s he kidding? Scott’s never given his sexual orientation much thought; mainly because it’s never been something he felt the need to question. Up until now, he’s only ever caught himself staring at girls, so he determines that Isaac must be special. Isaac must be the _one_ exception to his otherwise straight as a line, heterosexual self. Still, as he gets to know him better, he starts to want to be around Isaac more and more, to learn as much as he can about this boy who seems to be breaking down all of his self-enforced rules.

Laura is the first to notice, and honestly, it was only a matter of time before _someone_ did – Scott isn’t very good at being discreet. She pulls him to the side one day, while Isaac’s busy replacing a broken bulb in one of the overhead lights, and murmurs, “You’re cute, you know that, brown eyes?”

Scott blinks, taken aback, “Thank you…?”

“I mean, you yourself are cute – but the way you act when you’re around him is just adorable.”

“What?” He asks, casually, but he can already feel his cheeks turning pink, “The way I act around who?”

Laura’s lips stretch into a knowing smile, but she doesn’t say anything more about his crush, instead laughing, “I swear, you must have been a puppy in another life, McCall.”

Scott just blushes some more.

\-------------------------------

Work becomes a pattern, a routine that Scott can depend on. Even after Erica comes back, it still feels like he and Isaac are the only ones there sometimes. They have all these inside jokes – like the _spot-on_ impersonation Isaac can do of Derek when he’s angry; furrowing his eyebrows and pouting, arms folded across his chest. There are moments where they’ll just laugh together, pitched forward with their hands on their knees to steady themselves – and even after they get told off for it – usually by a frustrated Derek – they’ll still shoot looks to each other, lips quivering with the effort to hold their in their giggles. Scott finds out that they like a lot of the same music; Coldplay, Panic! At the Disco, Green Day – and even though Isaac admits to not finding One Direction _as_ annoying as people make them out to be, Scott doesn’t mind at all. He thinks Isaac is the closest thing to a perfect person he’s ever met.

Erica is pretty quick to take notice as well. On Thursday afternoon, after Laura sends Isaac across the street to the bookstore to ask Derek something or other, she comes up behind Scott and startles him.

“Are you into my brother?” Her words come out a bit harshly, but they’re not judgmental, not unkind.  

Scott is silent as he thinks of how to respond to a question like this. On the one hand, he could lie through his teeth and say ‘no’ – but he knows she wouldn’t believe it, not _Erica_ , of all people.

So he swallows his anxiety and breathes, in a tiny voice, “I think so, yeah.”

“Come on, Scotty boy,” she murmurs, shaking her head, “You _think_ so, or you _are_?”

“I… I am. I really, really am,” he replies, feeling only slightly pathetic.

To his surprise, Erica smiles widely, her pearly white teeth in distinct contrast to her signature red lipstick, and says, “If I’m being completely honest, I totally, one hundred percent approve.” Scott lets out a quick, relieved laugh, before she presses a perfectly manicured hand to his chest, looking him in the eyes as she whispers, “But know that if you hurt him in _any_ way – be it mentally, emotionally, whatever – I will beat you to death with a shovel.”

When the bell over the door chimes and Isaac walks in to see Erica and Scott separating, like children getting caught with their hands in the cookie jar, he raises an eyebrow.

“Whatever it is, I can’t stress enough how much I _don’t_ want to know,” Isaac mumbles, moving behind the counter and grinning.

\-------------------------------

Saturday comes and Scott is grateful to be able to wake up at noon, since the shop is closed on weekends. He’s barely awake when his phone vibrates on the table next to his bed, and when he picks it up; his lips curl into a smile because it’s from Isaac.

**12:14 pm:** _Want to do something today?_

**12:15 pm:** _That sounded way more enthusiastic in my head._

Scott laughs, and quickly types a reply:

_Enthusiasm doesn’t transfer to text, unless you type in ALL-CAPS LIKE ERICA!!!!!!!!!_

_And, in answer to your question: of course, dude. What’d you have in mind?_

**12:22 pm:** _I thought we could go for a walk on the beach or something – sound good?_

_Yeah,_ Scott responds, a few moments later, _sounds perfect :)_

**12:28 pm:** _Ok, I’ll meet you at the drum circle in fifteen minutes._

He isn’t quite sure how to dress, because he doesn’t know whether or not Isaac meant for this to seem like a date or just a platonic walk on the beach among two guy friends (Scott can’t help but roll his eyes at how ridiculously _date_ -ish that sounds in his head). But he hopes Isaac meant it that way, so he dresses relatively well; cut-off khaki shorts, red tank top, and his usual beat-up pair of black flip-flops that he’s had for two years. On his way out the door, he tells his mom he’ll be back later and gives her a kiss on the cheek.

He feels light, excited, as he walks down onto the beach to make his way to the drum circle. It’s in his genes to get nervous in situations like this – his mom is a seasoned pro at date-freak outs, and Scott’s witnessed enough of them to know what they look like – but he doesn’t feel anxious, not when he knows that Isaac wants to hang out with him, to _be_ with him. The weirdest part of it is that he doesn’t even know if Isaac likes him as anything more than a bro, but it doesn’t seem to matter. And when Scott reaches the crowd of people, gathered around the typical, hippie drummers and dancers, he finds Isaac already there, waiting for him.

“Hey,” he murmurs, sheepishly, shoving his hands into his pockets, as though they’re a physical manifestation of his nerves and by hiding them, Isaac won’t notice.

“Hey,” Isaac replies, grinning broadly and _oh_ , Scott can’t help but smile back, it’s so warm – just like all of Isaac’s smiles are. “Uh, so, I kind of suck at this – I’m used to Erica being around whenever I hang out with people. She always has something interesting to say, but I’m pretty much the opposite.”

“We don’t have to talk,” Scott suggests, because he gets it, “We can just walk for a little bit, if you want to.”

It takes him a moment, but Isaac nods and moves to follow Scott as he walks away from the drum circle, falling in step beside him. It’s a fucking gorgeous day – the sun is shining, the water is calm and steady – and the two boys are comfortable like this, happy to just walk next to each other. The sound of the waves is peaceful ambience to the noise made by the hordes of people on the beach.

Scott takes off his shoes after a couple of minutes, because he likes the feeling of the sand under his feet and wants to walk in the surf – and Isaac does the same, like he was waiting for Scott to do it before he did anything. The cool water feels good on his feet, and when he senses Isaac’s eyes on him, he blushes.

They walk on for a little while like that, before Scott gets up the courage to say, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” comes Isaac’s reply, soft and trusting when it falls from his lips.

“Do you remember when you sent me that text about not having anyone?” Isaac doesn’t speak, and Scott feels increasingly stupid for bringing this up but he’s too damn curious for his own good. When the taller boy finally nods, he murmurs, “Did you really mean that?”

Isaac falls silent again, for a few seconds that feel more like a few _hours_ , and then he responds, voice shaky as he tries to piece together the right words, “Yeah, I did. Back home, I don’t have friends. The only person I ever talk to during a normal school day is Erica, unless I absolutely _have_ to talk to someone else for whatever reason.”

“Why, though?” Scott asks, sure that it’s only a matter of questions before Isaac tells him to shut up,  “You’re cool, dude. You seem like you’d have tons of friends.”

At this statement, Isaac lets out a short chuckle, as though he can’t get over how ridiculously un-true that is, “I don’t know… I’m just not a very social person, I guess. It’s not a big deal, honestly.”

But even as he says it, Scott can tell that it _is_ a big deal.

“What about you?” Isaac changes the subject, “I’m assuming you’ve got loads of friends, loads of girlfriends, the whole stereotypical high school enchilada.”

Scott laughs at Isaac’s choice of words, before shrugging, “Nah, I’m not exactly drowning in friend requests. I’ve got one really good friend – best friend, actually. His name is Stiles and we’ve known each other since we were kids. As for the girlfriends, that’s a _big_ negative.”

“Really? I would’ve pegged you for the type A, jock-ish, popular… person, or something,” his sentence loses momentum as he reaches the end of it, and Scott smirks.

“Nope,” he replies, simply, “I’m almost painfully average, as seventeen year-old guys go.”

“Me too,” Isaac agrees, before nudging Scott’s arm with his elbow and adopting a cheesy, game show-host voice, “But at least we have ‘hearts of gold’, right? That’s what my guidance counselor always says; ‘At least you have a heart of gold.’ Like that makes up for the fact that I’m a social reject with no friends.”

Scott grimaces, “Yikes. That’s like telling a homeless person, hey, buddy, at least you’re not a shitty person. What’s it going to do to help them out, you know?”

“I know.”

“People suck.”

“ _Most_ people,” Isaac corrects him, shooting a look to Scott, a bashful smile on his face.

Scott swears if his face blushes any redder, Isaac will probably ask him if he’s sick.

They reach the jetty at the end of the public beach and slip their shoes back on in order to walk up onto it. There are a small number of people fishing at the tip of the dock, but other than that, it’s very peaceful. The raised slice of land offers an amazing view of the stretch of beach they just walked down, and Scott’s stomach is doing all number of back-flips because this feels perfect. Isaac motions for them to sit on the edge of the pier, and Scott nods, as they do just that, sitting down side by side.

“I love it here,” Isaac mumbles, so quietly that Scott isn’t sure if he’s meant to be able to hear it or not, until Isaac glances over at him. “Erica and I come here all the time. Our mom used to bring us, back when she was still alive.”

“You don’t have to talk about this, if you don’t want–,”

“I do,” Isaac says, and Scott gives him a tiny smile that says he understands, before the boy starts to tell him a story: “She used to say that nothing could hurt us when we were at the beach, and that the reason the sun shone so brightly here was because angels watched over it. I never believed in angels or god or any of that stuff, but Erica did. Even after she died, I don’t think she stopped believing in all the things our mom told us about. She took her death a lot harder than I did, because, I mean, it sucks to start puberty and not have your mother around to talk to. I was better at handling the loss than she was, but I guess that’s just because I wouldn’t _let_ myself break down over it, or something. I don’t know, but coming here makes it seem like she’s still here, my mom.”

Scott takes a moment to let all of Isaac’s words sink in, and then murmurs, “She sounds amazing.”

Isaac chuckles, “She was. What’s your mom like?”

“Pretty standard, as far as single mothers go,” Scott says, scrunching his eyebrows up in thought, “She’s a nurse, so she works long hours and isn’t home that much. But she’s always there for me, which has to be tough because my parents split a couple of years ago and I still don’t think she fully knows how to handle some of the ‘guy problems’ I have – and that’s not me being weird, I swear, that’s what she calls them.”

“Do you miss your dad?” Isaac’s tone is quiet and genuinely interested.

Scott shrugs, then shakes his head, “No, I don’t. He was an asshole, and we’re much better off without him. I think I miss having a father _figure_ more than I miss my actual father.”

“Sometimes I wish I had a different dad,” Isaac tells him, a strange, faraway look on his face now, “It’s not that I don’t love him, I just think that Erica and I deserve a lot better.”

Scott raises an eyebrow, “What’s so bad about him?”

Upon hearing Scott’s words, Isaac seems to realize what he’s just said, and clears his throat nervously, “Nothing, nothing, he’s fine.”

It’s only awkward for a moment, because Scott doesn’t want it to be and is quick to change the subject, “Can I ask you something?”

“You don’t have to ask me every time you want to ask a question,” Isaac laughs, breathlessly, “Just ask it.”

Scott nods, only slightly embarrassed, before a sly grin creeps onto his face and he asks, “What’s something you can’tdo?”

The taller boy blinks, smirking, “Why do you want to know stuff I can’t do? Doesn’t that defeat the whole purpose of the question?”

“It’s usually more interesting than what someone _can_ do,” Scott replies, simply, waiting for his answer.

He lets out a sigh, pulling his legs up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them, and then says, “There’s a lot of things I can’t do. I can’t speak any other languages–,”

“ _Puedo_ ,” Scott responds in Spanish.

Isaac narrows his eyes teasingly and whispers, “Show-off.”

Scott waves the comment away, pressing further, “What else can’t you do?”

“I can’t cook for shit. I can’t cross my eyes. I can’t fly an airplane. I can’t get into a bed unless it’s made; Erica’s always thought that was weird. I can’t eat peppermint, I’m allergic. I can’t be in small spaces – it makes me feel like I’m going to die. I can’t say ‘she sells sea shells by the sea shore’ five times fast.” He purses his lips together, clearly trying to think of more things to say, but instead asks, “What about you?”

“I can’t play lacrosse, but I’m trying out for my schools team this year anyway. I can’t draw. I’m asthmatic, so I can’t smoke or be around people who smoke. I can’t do math. I can’t read stuff in front of the class – I get nervous. I can’t whistle. And I also can’t cook, so I guess we’re two for two there,” Scott nudges Isaac’s arm playfully and he snickers.

“Wow,” Isaac makes a mock-disappointed face, “The two of us combined just suck at everything.”

Scott laughs, “Basically, yeah.”

They sit on the pier for about ten more minutes, not really keeping up a conversation, instead making small comments to each other here and there. It’s nice – really, really nice – and Scott is kind of floored by how much he likes this boy. This confusing, interesting, sweet boy who can’t do so many things and yet is near perfect in his eyes. Finally, Isaac stands, helping Scott to his feet as he does, and they decide to go to the bookstore across the street from the ice cream shop, since Scott hasn’t been there yet.

They only get lost once. Scott swears he knows where he’s going, even as Isaac insists that they’re heading in the complete wrong direction. By the time Scott realizes he’s right, the clear, blue sky has turned grey and then it starts to rain. Scott’s first instinct is to get someplace dry, but Isaac just grabs his hand and starts to run, pulling the shorter boy along behind him. Once they reach the bookstore, both of them are soaking wet, but neither seems to mind. All they can do is laugh, ducking inside the door to be greeted by an irate Derek.

“You’re tracking mud and water all over the fucking floor!” He hisses, moving out from his place behind the counter and pushing them towards the bathroom like a bossy soccer mom, “There’s towels in there – try and clean yourselves up, okay? _Jesus_.”

The bathroom is small, and all there is to use are _paper_ towels – “not exactly the queen’s finest, thanks Derek,” Isaac rolls his eyes – but they do their best. Scott watches as Isaac tosses his head back and forth over the sink and giggles when he reaches out to card his fingers through Scott’s hair, playfully, shaking the water out for him.

When they come back out into the store, Derek looks appeased by their efforts to dry off and mutters, “Sorry about that, I just hate having to clean up in here.”

“No problemo, boss man,” Scott says, winking and saluting like the little shit he is while Isaac just laughs.

He isn’t exactly sure why he wanted to come to the bookstore in the first place, but before he has time to think about what they can do here, Isaac is taking his hand again and pulling him towards the comic book/graphic novel aisle.

“Dude, no way – you like Marvel, too?” Scott was convinced that he and Stiles were the only two people left in the state of California who still read Marvel comics on a regular basis.

Isaac’s eyes widen, and he corrects him, “I _love_ Marvel, oh my god. From ages, like, six to eleven, I literally thought I was Peter Parker. He was my hero.”

“That is so cool!” Scott exclaims, unable to hide his enthusiasm, “If you secretly love Batman even though everyone tells you DC is shit, we’re the same person.”

“I _like_ Batman,” Isaac says, scrunching up his face, “I don’t love him.”

Scott shrugs, nodding, “Fair enough, fair enough.” His fingers dance along the line of graphic novels, until he pulls out a specific one, holding it up for Isaac to see, “Do you like Game of Thrones?”

“I don’t have much time to watch TV back home, but Erica loves it – something about the big, shirtless, muscle-y men, I think.”

Scott laughs, and it’s like he can’t stop asking Isaac for his opinion on things after that. He’ll see a book and have to know whether or not he likes it (more often than not, he does). Scott knows Isaac’s a keeper when he reacts to a hardback copy of _The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy_ by smiling like an overexcited ten year-old. It’s funny, but he’s never been able to… _bond_ with someone this quickly over so many things. Isaac likes Marvel, he likes sci-fi, he likes B-horror movies (who the hell genuinely likes B-horror movies?), he likes to dip Oreo’s in peanut butter – Scott can barely even process how wonderful this boy is. 

“Scott?” Isaac asks, as they walk down the Technology/Electronics aisle, on their way to the children’s books (because Scott’s feeling nostalgic).

“Mmm?” He hums, as they turn the corner and descend upon a row of brightly colored books for kids.

“Do you… like me?”

Scott stops dead in his tracks, so suddenly that Isaac runs into him, letting out a short gasp as the wind is knocked out of him. _Fuck_ , Scott thinks to himself, squeezing his eyes shut and giving himself yet another mental kick in the nuts. He’s quick to compose himself, though, turning to look at Isaac, who has a curious expression on his face. One of his eyebrows is raised and the corner of his lips is just barely turned up – the beginnings of a smile.

“What do you mean?” Scott asks, trying (and failing) to keep his voice level.

Isaac’s eyebrow quirks even higher, and now he’s smiling, “I mean… Do you like me? Like, as more than a friend?”

It’s as though every part of Scott just stops working. He opens his mouth to speak, but no sound comes out. He tries to reach up to scratch at the back of his neck, but he can’t seem to get his hands to work. There’s a brief moment where all he can do is stare at Isaac, whose expression is growing more and more smug by the second – and then he turns around and moves behind one of the stacks of children’s books, away from Isaac. He doesn’t mean for it to come across as rude or weak, he just needs a second to collect himself, because he’s never done this before. He’s never _liked_ someone this much, and it may seem stupid, but he doesn’t quite know what to do, how to act, what to say.

It shouldn’t be this hard, and he shouldn’t be this nervous.

He isn’t even aware that he’s pulling out his phone until he’s un-locking it, tapping the ‘messages’ icon and opening his ongoing conversation with Isaac. His fingers only shake a little bit as he types out the words “ _Yes, I do,”_ breathing shallowly, and presses send. When he hears a dull ‘ping!’ from the opposite side of the stacks, he knows Isaac got it, and it’s only a matter of seconds before Scott’s phone buzzes, indicating that he replied.

**3:44 pm:** _Say it._

When he looks up from his phone, Isaac is standing right in front of him, his face only a few inches away, and Scott feels like he can’t breathe – but in the best way possible. Isaac says nothing, just glances from the message illuminated on Scott’s phone to Scott, waiting for him to vocalize whatever he’s been feeling for the last week and a half.

“Yes, I like you,” Scott squeaks, because he’s backed up against the aisle of books and Isaac is _so_ close to him now, “I like you so much.”

In the fifteen seconds it takes for Isaac to respond, Scott’s mind goes into overdrive. He imagines every possible way that this scenario could go wrong, horribly, horribly wrong. He imagines Isaac laughing at him, because there’s no way in hell he could ever find someone like Scott attractive. He imagines him just walking away, not saying a word, and leaving Scott alone. He imagines him simply saying that he doesn’t feel the same way, imagines how shitty it would feel to hear that from him.

But when those fifteen seconds are up, when they’re over and done with, Isaac does something that Scott doesn’t expect; he smiles, one of those broad, toothy, dumb, _Isaac_ smiles that makes him weak at the knees, and then breathes, “Is it okay if I kiss you?”

Scott’s eyes widen because the fact that he feels the need to ask is ridiculous, “Y-Yeah, it’s – it’s _more_ than okay, yes, absolutely.”

And then he’s leaning in and _oh_ , his lips are soft and _shit_ , this is really happening. He would pinch himself – just to make sure – but his arms are too busy wrapping around Isaac’s middle, fingers scrabbling at the still-wet fabric of his shirt. He can feel Isaac thread his fingers through his hair, lips pressing and seeking and pulling little breathy pants from Scott.

“I like you, too,” he whispers into Scott’s mouth, smiling again and Scott isn’t sure he’s aware of what he’s doing to him but everything is so good and so _right_.

The two boys stay like that for a while, just kissing and touching and giggling, until the sound of someone clearing their throat pulls them out of their reverie. When they break apart, Isaac’s hand moves down to grab hold of Scott’s and they locate the source of the noise; Derek, standing at the end of the aisle, strong arms folded over his chest, eyebrows quirked. 

“Making out in the stacks?” He snorts, rolling his eyes, “How very high school of you two. I would say I’m surprised, but I’m not.”

Scott is sure his cheeks are scarlet at this point, but Isaac squeezes his hand reassuringly, smiling at Derek, “Sorry, man.”

Suffice to say, they’re pretty quick to leave the bookstore, smirks on their faces and laughs bubbling up from their throats. Isaac’s still holding Scott’s hand, guiding him down the street and into a Starbucks because “if he doesn’t get caffeine soon, he’ll scream.” Scott shrinks up like a deer in the headlights when it comes time for him to order, because – believe it or not – he’s never gotten anything from Starbucks in his life, but Isaac steps in and orders for him – something frothy and sweet that Scott ends up liking.

“So does this mean we’re, like… together now?”

The minute it’s out of his mouth, he hangs his head in embarrassment, but Isaac just laughs, sipping his latte like Scott _didn’t_ just ask the most basic question of all time.

“I don’t usually make out with people I don’t want to be with,” he replies, and then backtracks, “Well, to be fair, I’ve never really made out with _anyone_ before.” Scott lets out a weak chuckle, twirling his straw around in his cup, as Isaac continues: “Yeah, I mean… If you want it to mean that, yes, because I definitely do.”

“I do, too,” Scott mumbles, unable to stop the smug grin that spreads across his face, “But what happens when I go back home and you go back to San Francisco?”

Isaac shrugs, “Can we agree to not think about that? Let’s just have fun together and cross that bridge when we get to it – as cliché as that sounds.”

“Alright,” Scott nods.

“Alright,” Isaac echoes, before leaning in for a kiss.

\-------------------------------

**[From: Stiles] 7:34 pm:** _YOU HAVE A BOYFRIEND NOW???!!!!_

**7:39 pm:** _AM I JUST SUPPOSED TO BE SATISFIED WITH THE ONE SENTENCE TEXT YOU SENT ME ABOUT IT EARLIER??? I WANT DETAILS, BRO. WHO IS HE? WHAT DOES HE LOOK LIKE? IS HE OUR AGE? ALSO I APOLOGIZE FOR THE ALL-CAPS ATTACK, I THINK MY PHONE IS BROKEN._

**[From: Erica] 8:12 pm:** _Isaac won’t shut up about you, Scotty. I’m coining your ship name early on, before Laura beats me to it: Scisaac. It has a nice ring to it, don’t’cha think?_

**8:15 pm:** _PS: don’t forget what I told you. Hurt him and it’s death by shovel :)))_


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part is a bit shorter than the first, but a _lot_ of stuff happens in it. I hope you all enjoy and thanks so much for reading. You guys are the best (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ～  
>  And as always, you can find me [here](http://snugglyscisaac.tumblr.com) on Tumblr.

“Mom, you love me no matter what, right?” Scott asks on Sunday night.

Melissa raises a suspicious eyebrow, “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Scott sighs, only slightly exasperated, “I’m just asking.”

There’s a pause, a number of seconds where she just stares at him, a curious look on her face, before she murmurs, “Of course I do, sweetie. You should know that by now, with all of the dumb stuff I’ve had to deal with from you over the years. There’s nothing you could say or do that would make me love you any less.”

“I have a boyfriend.”

He didn’t mean for the words to come out so quickly, but it almost felt like if he didn’t say them soon enough, he’d explode. When they’re out, it’s like they hang in the air for the ten seconds or so it takes for Melissa to form a reaction, and Scott shouldn’t be nervous about what that reaction may be, but he is.

And then, “Okay.”

He blinks, just blinks, because he’s confused, “That’s it?”

She nods, curtly, “Did you expect me to burn you at the stake for it?” When he says nothing, she exhales, “Honey, you can be with whoever you want to be with, whether they’re a boy, a girl – it doesn’t matter to me, as long as you’re happy and safe.”

Scott can’t think of anything to say, can’t think of words strong enough to express how grateful he is to have such a _kickass_ mom – so he opts instead for moving forward and wrapping his arms around her tightly. She doesn’t hesitate, holding him close and stroking the back of his neck, something she’s always done.

“Thanks, mom,” he whispers into her hair, closing his eyes, “I love you.”

“I love you too, goofball,” she replies, and he can tell she’s smiling.

\-------------------------------

The minute he walks into work on Monday morning, Laura is on him, a huge smile on her face. At first, she doesn’t say anything, just stares at him like he’s a pair of shoes in a storefront window. He’s about to walk away out of sheer discomfort, but then she pulls him in, slings an arm around his shoulders and murmurs, “Well played, brown eyes.”

Scott grins in spite of himself, “Is he–?”

“He’s in the back,” she nods, still with that satisfied smile plastered across her cheeks.

She gives him a playful shove in the right direction, while Scott rolls his eyes. He moves behind the counter, pushes open the door to the storage room, and finds Isaac fixing a shelf, boxes scattered around his feet. For the first couple of seconds, he just watches him – the way the muscles in his arms flex as he holds one end of the shelf up, hammering nails into the wall, the way he licks his lips in concentration. Scott would be lying if he said his eyes didn’t fixate on the little patch of skin on his stomach that’s exposed whenever he lifts his arms up.

“Enjoying the view?” Isaac’s amused voice pulls him out of his momentary stupor, making him jump.

He’s quick to regain his composure and smiles, “What would happen if I said yes?”

“Hmmm…” Isaac drops the hammer into the toolbox on the ground and hops down off the stepladder, stepping towards Scott with a mischievous grin that he’s seen on him before. “Well, I’m no expert, but probably something like _this_.” Scott blinks and then Isaac’s pulling him close, kissing him hungrily, while Scott wraps his arms around the taller boy’s waist.

It’s kind of ridiculous how well they fit together – especially considering the fact that they’ve only known each other for two weeks – but Isaac’s tallness compliments Scott’s shortness. He’s not so tall that Scott has to push himself up on his tiptoes to kiss him, but he does have to angle his head back while Isaac leans down. He can get at Isaac’s neck easily, which is good because he quickly finds out that he loves hickeys. Like, a lot. Giving and receiving.

Mostly receiving though.

When the door to the storage room opens, casting light into the otherwise dim room, it takes them at least ten seconds to fully break apart – and by the time they finally do, a smirking Erica greets them: “I thought you two were dry humping in here – from all the gasps I kept hearing outside. Anyway, if you horn-dogs don’t mind, can you come do your jobs? We open in five minutes.”

“Love you too, sis!” Isaac calls to her as she walks back out into the shop and he smiles down at Scott, “We really should get out there.”

Scott groans, carding his fingers through Isaac’s mess of hair, “We have five minutes, don’t we?”

Isaac’s lips curl into a grin and he murmurs, “If this gets us fired, I swear–,”

But Scott’s already kissing him again, sucking at his bottom lip and making him shudder.

\-------------------------------

It’s hard not to be all over each other during work hours – much harder than it should be. Both Scott and Isaac are naturally affectionate, and they’re pretty quick to discover that keeping their hands off of one another – “staying professional” as Derek calls it – is nearly fucking impossible. They’re in the honeymoon stage of their relationship; constantly hungry for each other, always wanting to touch, to kiss, to feel. After being told off a number of times by Derek and – occasionally – Laura for their PDA, it becomes almost like a game. Isaac will walk past Scott to get to the register and his arm will just barely brush against Scott’s ass. Scott will blow on the back of Isaac’s neck as he tries to count the money for the day. It’s not a competition, not exactly, but both of them keep track of the score in their heads, and there’s _alway_ s a winner at the end of the day – and that person _always_ gets a reward (spoiler alert: it’s usually hickeys).

“Are you two taking part in some kind of hickey hunger games?” Erica asks on Wednesday, after catching a glimpse of Isaac’s neck – marked with both old and new love bites from Scott, “You look like someone tried to strangle you in an alley.”

Isaac makes a face at her, sticking his tongue out from between his teeth; “They’re not nearly as noticeable as you make them out to be,” he pauses mid-sentence to inspect his throat with the front-facing camera on his phone, “Are they?”

“No,” she shrugs, grabbing the broom from behind the door and beginning to sweep, “I guess not – still, _damn_ Scott, are you a vampire or something?”

“Not that I know of,” Scott replies, smirking before adding, in a teasing tone, “I just love sucking on your brother’s neck.”

“Okay, _ew,_ ” Erica puts up her hands, shaking her head, “I really, really, _really_ don’t need to hear about that, thanks buddy.”

When she moves away from them to sweep underneath the cabinets, Scott leans in close to Isaac’s ear and whispers, “I really do love sucking on your neck – I wasn’t just saying that to freak Erica out.”

“I _know_ you do,” Isaac laughs, nosing at Scott’s hair playfully, “I think the string of hickeys across my clavicle is solid evidence of that, don’t you?”

Scott grins, before looking down at Isaac’s collarbone and frowning, “You know, now that you mentioned it, I think I missed a spot–,”

He grips Isaac’s shoulders and leans in before Isaac can say or do anything to stop him, and once his mouth is pressed to Isaac’s pale skin, he doesn’t _want_ to do anything. In fact, he can’t do anything except suck in a breath, gasping at the familiar feeling of Scott sucking a bruise into his skin. When he pulls back, he licks his lips smugly and murmurs, “Got it.”

“You’re such an asshole,” Isaac whispers, but there’s a smile on his face.

There always is when he’s with Scott.

Erica is definitely their biggest fan, no doubt about it. If they had a fan club, she’d be the president. Even though she teases them and pokes fun at the way they act around each other sometimes, she spends most of her time squealing whenever they do cute stuff (which is all the time, according to her). Laura is a close second, because she’s very similar to Erica and therefore super fond of Scott and Isaac. Derek is mainly a third party observer – he doesn’t care either way, but they can all tell that he doesn’t object in the slightest to the two boys dating.

On Thursday, they drive straight from work to the movies for their second official date. Scott lets Isaac pick the movie, mainly because Isaac once told him that he rarely has time to go to the movie theater, despite his pretty hardcore love for cinema. Isaac picks a horror/slasher/thriller/sci-fi/gore-fest that ends up being horrible – but it doesn’t matter, because he and Scott spend 99% of the hour and a half running time making out in the back row.

“God, what a great movie!” Isaac exclaims cheekily, as they walk hand in hand through the double doors and out into the open air.

Scott wrinkles his nose, “I thought it was depressingly bad.”

“But at least it had a happy ending, right?”

“Didn’t the guy’s evil twin eat the main character’s girlfriend or something?” Scott asks, trying to remember anything other than how good Isaac smelled and how soft his lips were, “I wouldn’t exactly consider that a happy ending.”

Isaac’s eyebrows furrow, as he and Scott cross the street to get to the Starbucks on the other side, “I thought the girlfriend got infected with the alien snake venom, and so they had to kill her – otherwise all the kids at the orphanage would have died?”

“Whatever,” Scott shrugs, not really giving a shit that neither of them can remember any of the plot, “I’m just glad I could take you to the movies – it sucks that you never get to go. Plus, the making out was pretty great, too.”

Isaac laughs and squeezes Scott’s hand affectionately, “I’m pretty sure that your lips are my favorite things in the entire world. Well, maybe second – under Marvel. No, third – under s’mores.”

Scott can’t help but kiss him after that, one hand moving to cup the back of Isaac’s neck as he presses their lips together. He’s just so freaking _cute_ sometimes – scratch that: all the time – it’s ridiculous. Scott can’t get over how much how he likes him.

This time, when they sit down after getting their coffee, they choose one of the couches in the corner and Isaac wraps an arm around Scott’s shoulder, holding him close while they sip their drinks. It may seem stupid or cliché, but just being near Isaac can make Scott’s entire mood change in a second. He can be in the shittiest possible mood, after dealing with a rude customer or accidentally breaking one of the glass covers that goes over the ice cream tubs – and Isaac will pull him in close, and Scott will bury his face in the crook of his neck and just _breathe_ , and everything will be alright again.

“Have you told your dad about us?” Scott asks – out of sheer curiosity, since he told Isaac what his mom had said when he’d told her about the two of them dating.

Isaac shakes his head, “No, not yet.”

Scott raises an eyebrow, “But I mean, we haven’t exactly been secretive about it.” He gestures to the hickeys on Isaac’s neck, “Surely he’s asked you where you got all of those?”

“Yeah, he has,” he replies – the tone of his voice is different now, much more serious, and he’s looking down at the floor instead of at Scott, “Look, uh… My dad’s not like your mom, he’s… he doesn’t support gay people or anything like that. If he found out I was dating you, he’d freak out, so – so when he asked about the hickeys, I… told him they were from a girl.”

Scott’s face falls, and his next words come out before he can stop them, “You’re not ashamed of me, are you? Because that’s–,”

“ _No_ ,” Isaac reaches out to take one of Scott’s hands, stroking his face with the other, “Of course I’m not ashamed of you – please don’t think that, okay? I’m not, it’s just that my dad would never let me leave the house again if he knew I was dating a boy.”

There’s a silence, because Scott doesn’t know what to say or how to feel, and he can tell Isaac’s hiding things from him again. It’s a feeling he’s gotten a few times before during some of their talks, and he doesn’t like it.

“So, what, you’re just never going to tell him? You’re going to make out with me in back rows of movie theaters, then go home and tell your dad about what a great time you had with your _girlfriend_?”

Isaac looks agonized, his eyes swimming with guilt, and Scott wishes he could take all of what he just said back. He understands what Isaac’s going through – not all parents are as accepting as Melissa, not all kids are as lucky as he is in that respect.

“Scott, I’m sorry,” he whispers, voice thick, “I hate it just as much you do, but I don’t have a choice. I don’t want to have to stop seeing you, and if my dad found out, that’s what would happen.”

The second he’s done speaking, Scott pitches forward and pulls him into a hug because it’s all he can think to do. It’s only the slightest bit awkward, since they’re sitting on a couch, but Isaac doesn’t seem to mind, pressing his nose into Scott’s neck.

“No, _I’m_ sorry, baby. I understand how hard that must be for you, and it’s okay that you haven’t told him. You don’t ever have to tell him, if you don’t want to, alright?” Isaac lets out a quiet, contented, mewling sound, and Scott pulls away to look at him, “What?”

“You called me baby,” Isaac replies, cheeks flushing pink and a sheepish grin on his face.

Scott chuckles, ruffling Isaac’s hair between his fingers, “I’m a huge sucker for pet names, so get used to it.”

“Mm, I will,” Isaac breathes, leaning in to kiss Scott happily.

The next ten minutes pass pretty blissfully; Isaac pokes fun at some of the tourists’ less than sensible outfits as they wait in line for their drinks, and Scott bites his lip to suppress his laughter. It feels like they’re the only two people in the whole world, like nothing could ever ruin what they have right at that moment.

“Do you want to go to the beach?” Scott asks, running his fingers through Isaac’s curls lazily, “I mean, it’s late but we could go down there for a while. It would be quiet and–,”

“How late is it?” Isaac asks, sitting up and pulling out his phone to check the time; 10:23pm. When he sees the numbers at the top of the screen, he lets out a small gasp, and curses, “ _Shit_ , oh shit, I have to get home right now.”

Scott grabs his shoulder, keeping his voice quiet, “Why? What’s wrong?” But Isaac’s already standing up, pulling Scott up with him and all but dragging him out of Starbucks. When they get to the car, Scott follows Isaac’s lead and gets in, and when they’re pulling out of the parking lot, he decides to try again: “Is everything alright?”

“I, uhm,” Isaac blinks, trying to clear his head, hands gripping the steering wheel tightly as they speed down the street, “I-I was supposed to be home at 10 and it’s nearly 10:30 now. I’m over twenty minutes late – my dad’s going to _kill_ me.” His voice is uneven, shaky like his hands, and there’s a look on his face that Scott’s never seen before; fear.

Scott nods, trying to calm him down, “It’s going to be okay, I’m sure he’ll understand. We just lost track of time.”

Isaac opens his mouth to say something, and then closes it again. When he finally does reply, his voice is different, and that feeling is back – the feeling that Isaac’s hiding things from him, “Yeah, t-totally, it’ll be fine.” 

When Isaac drops him off at Paradise Cove, Scott kisses him and tells him to text him as soon as he can, and Isaac nods before driving away. As he watches the car disappear around the corner, he can’t shake the sinking feeling in his stomach that something bad is about to happen.

He tries to go to sleep, he really does, but he can’t stop thinking, can’t stop worrying about Isaac. He isn’t even sure why he’s worrying in the first place. After an hour of lying on his back and staring at the ceiling, he sits up, pulling out his phone.

**[To: Isaac]** _Hey, I just wanted to ask if everything was ok. I’m worried – I hope I have no reason to be._

**[To: Erica]** _Is Isaac alright?_

He sends both texts and waits patiently for one of them to respond. When his phone buzzes, he picks it up to see that Erica did:

**11:32 pm:** _scott, I need u 2 promise me u won’t freak out on isaac 2morrow. I kno how cryptic that sounds, but I just need u 2 promise._

Scott reads the message through several times, before he types his reply:

_Fine, I promise. But he’s ok, yeah?_

**11:38 pm:** _ya, he’s ok. we’ll c u in the morning._

He waits up for another thirty minutes, hoping that Isaac will respond and re-assure him that everything’s alright, but he doesn’t. So Scott turns out the lights and crawls under the covers, burrowing himself beneath his pillow and willing his mind to shut up for two seconds so he can sleep.

\-------------------------------

The next morning, Scott is dressed and ready to go before his mom even comes out of her room. It’s Friday, which means that after today, he has the whole weekend to spend with Isaac.

_Isaac._

It all hits him like a brick to the gut, and he remembers everything that happened the previous night. All of the worry and guilt comes flooding back to him, and suddenly all that matters is getting to work, getting to Isaac. On his way down the street, he checks his phone and sees that he has no new messages, meaning that Isaac never responded to his text – but he figures it’s okay, because soon he’ll be able to talk to him in person.

When he gets to the shop, he finds Derek filling up the ice cream tubs, but Erica and Isaac are nowhere to be seen. _That’s weird_ , Scott thinks to himself. _They’re never late._ Trying to focus, he busies himself with helping Derek get ready to open, stacking bowls and cups, counting inventory.

He’s in the storage room moving boxes when he hears the bell over the door chime, followed by muffled conversation coming from outside. Realizing that it must be Isaac and Erica, he opens the door and moves back out into the shop.

When he sees Isaac, he stops dead in his tracks.

He’s hanging his head, trying not to draw attention to it, but no matter what he does, he can’t possibly hide it; a large, angry, purple bruise around his left eye. Erica meets Scott’s gaze, a pleading look in her eyes, and Scott remembers the promise he made to her.

Luckily, Derek’s the first to speak, “You okay, Isaac?”

Isaac doesn’t lift his head to look at Derek, instead addresses the floor, mumbling, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Erica looks from her brother to his boyfriend to their boss – Scott notes that there’s something different about her today – and then reverts back to her usual bubbly self, chirping, “Well, let’s get to work, boys.”

Ten minutes.

Scott manages to go ten _freaking_ minutes before he gives in, pulling Isaac into the storage room and slamming the door before Erica can stop him. At first, neither of them says a word – Scott just looks at him, finally gets a decent look. Isaac’s face is drained of all color, save for the dark purple blooming all around his eye, and he’s shaking, still refusing to make eye contact with Scott.

“Isaac, what’s going on?” Scott asks, reaching out to touch the taller boy, only to have him recoil, “Erica told me not to freak out, and I’m not, but you have to at least talk to me. Give me something, some kind of explanation, because I’m beyond worried about you at this point.”

Isaac swallows, fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt nervously, and he opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out.

“ _Baby_ ,” Scott breathes, taking a step towards his trembling boyfriend who, thankfully, doesn’t back away this time, “Please talk to me.”

It’s like that’s all it really takes, the whispered pet name. Isaac gives himself up, stepping close and pressing his forehead to Scott’s, his breathing shallow. Scott wraps his arms around Isaac tightly; rubbing circles across his back and kissing every part of him he can reach.

“I c-can’t talk about it,” Isaac whimpers, clinging to Scott like he’s going to disappear if he doesn’t hold on tight enough. “N-Not right now, at l-least.”

Scott strokes his hair; smoothing the mess of curls he loves so much, “You don’t want to talk about it today?” Isaac doesn’t reply, just shakes his head, his breath hot against Scott’s ear. “That’s fine, you don’t have to talk about it until you’re ready to, okay? Just let me know when you’re ready and we’ll talk.”

Isaac nods, taking deep breaths to calm himself, but not letting go of Scott for a second, “Thank y-you.”

“Of course, baby,” Scott soothes, pressing a soft kiss to Isaac’s jaw, “If it’s alright with you, can I… see it?”

It takes Isaac a second to realize what Scott’s talking about, but when he does, he nods again, pulling away just enough so that Scott has a clear view of his face. The bruise is most visible directly under his eye, and when he reaches up to touch it, Isaac winces.

“Oh, sorry,” Scott murmurs, instead fitting his hand to Isaac’s cheek.

“S’okay,” Isaac whispers, nuzzling into Scott’s touch like a cat.

And then Scott’s cupping his face, pulling him in and pressing his lips to the bruised skin as lightly as he can manage. Isaac lets out a quiet sigh, lifting his hands up to hold onto Scott’s arms, and Scott can feel him smiling. He knows it isn’t much, the gesture, but he can’t do anything else for Isaac at the moment, and it seems to be enough for now.

“Let’s go to the beach tomorrow, okay?” Isaac breathes, thumbs stroking the backs of Scott’s hands, “Can we?”

Scott nods, “Of course we can. But right now we should probably get back to work. Are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah,” Isaac says, taking a deep breath, “I’ll be alright.”

And Scott trusts that he’s telling the truth.

When the boys come out of the storage room, Isaac moves towards the register to take his sister’s place waiting on customers, while Scott grabs Erica’s arm and pulls her to the side. He realizes that the reason she looks so different to him is because she’s not wearing her signature bright red lipstick. She looks much more like a sixteen year-old girl without it, but she also looks deflated, hollow.

“Erica, what’s going on?” Scott hisses, loosening his grip on her arm when she winces. “If you can tell me anything at all, now’s the time to do it.”

“I told you not to freak out,” she whispers, voice thin and eyes pleading. “He’s going through some stuff, alright? I wish I could tell you about it, but it’s not my place. I’m just trying to protect him, he’s my big brother – and I really fucking love him.”

Scott’s expression softens at her words, and he sighs, “I know you do.”

She reaches out and squeezes his shoulder reassuringly, “You’re a good guy, Scotty. I’m glad it was you we met at the drum circle that night.”

“Me too,” he replies simply, and she smiles.

\-------------------------------

“Come _on_ , Isaac!”

“No.”

“But–,”

“No!”

It’s Saturday and, just like Scott said they would, they’re at the beach. This time around, they came during the day, in swim trunks and everything. They’ve been sitting out in the sun for about half an hour – under an umbrella, but still, it’s hot as shit – and now Scott wants to swim, but he can’t seem to get Isaac into the water.

He puts on his very best pout – his resemblance to a puppy shooting through the goddamn roof – and then asks, “Why won’t you come swim with me?”

“Because… I don’t want to, okay?” Isaac’s jaw is set, his arms folded across his bare chest like a stubborn kindergartner.

“But we’re at the _beach_!” Scott whines, leaning in to nip at Isaac’s nose, “And you’re the one who wanted to come here in the first place. Why come if you aren’t going to swim?” Isaac is silent – not looking at his frustrated boyfriend – and Scott tries again, “Don’t ignore me. What’s the matter? It’s a gorgeous day, the water’s nice and calm.”

Isaac shakes his head, curls bouncing on his head, “I just don’t want to. I…”

“You what?” Scott’s eyebrows furrow, “What’s wrong? You can tell me.”

Clearly struggling for some kind of excuse, Isaac says, “The water’s probably freezing.”

Scott disagrees, “I know it’s not.”

“Well,” he huffs, “W-What about… sharks?”

This time, Scott rolls his eyes, “Sharks don’t come in this close to land! You _know_ that – what’s up? Really, I mean?”

Isaac falls silent for a few seconds, staring at his hands nervously, and then asks, “What about waves? I don’t want to, like… get pulled under or – or something.”

“Isaac, stop making up excuses. You’re not going to get pulled under, or eaten by sharks – and the water’s warm. Now, tell me what’s wrong. Please.”

Their eyes meet – brown staring into blue, the bruise around his left eye still as noticeable as ever – and Isaac lets out a long sigh, “Fuck,” his voice drops down to its lowest possible volume, so quiet that Scott can’t even hear him when he mumbles, “………”

“What?” Scott’s starting to get frustrated, but he’s gentle, “Speak up, babe, whatever it is, I won’t judge you – I _promise_.”

Another sigh, then he looks up at Scott and murmurs, “Fine. The reason I don’t want to go in is because…” He covers his face with his hands, peeking out from in-between his fingers, “I-I can’t swim.”

Scott is actually taken aback for a moment, “Really?”

“No, I’m fucking joking. Yes, really – it’s so embarrassing!”

Scott puts his hands up in surrender, _“Okay_ , okay, I’m sorry. So… what – you just never learned how?”

Isaac shakes his head, “When I was a kid, I saw this movie where one of the main characters gets drowned in a lake. After that, my mom would try to teach me, but whenever she’d put me in our pool, I’d kick and scream and cry until she let me get back out again. So, not only can I not swim, I’m also terrified of water.”

Scott moves in close to press his forehead to the taller boys’ and whispers, “Baby, don’t worry. I’ll be right next to you the whole time, and I won’t let _anything_ happen to you.”

Isaac is quiet, as if contemplating all the things that could possibly go wrong in this situation, and then he nods, “Okay. I’ll go in, but you have to promise to… I don’t know – keep me safe.”

The curly haired boy blushes as Scott smiles and kisses him, “Deal.”

Standing up, he extends a hand to Isaac and pulls him to his feet. After allowing him to take a deep breath, they start towards the ocean; Scott’s excited steps in stark contrast to his boyfriend’s slow and labored ones.

Right before they get to the water, Isaac reaches out and grabs Scott’s hand, holding on tightly and murmurs, “Scott – no – I-I don’t want to–,”

“Baby, calm down,” he replies, his voice soothing, “I’m right here.”

He watches Isaac’s face, determination fighting off fear, until he nods again, shakily, and closes his eyes. Scott sighs and pulls him forward until their feet are in the water. “Oh god, oh god, oh _god_ ,” Isaac is psyching himself out and making everything much scarier than it actually is. “I’m gonna die, I’m gonna fucking die–,”

“Isaac!” Scott tightens his grip on the boy’s hand, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek, “You’re going to be _fine_. Just breathe, okay? Relax. I’m _right here_.”

After that, Isaac falls silent, breathing in and out slowly, as they wade further into the warm ocean water, stopping once they’re in up to their chests. “Shit – is it over?” Isaac asks, his eyes still squeezed shut.

Scott chuckles, “Is what over? Open your eyes, it’s okay.” When the boy keeps his eyes closed, Scott wraps his arms around him and coaxes, “Come on – I can’t see those pretty blue eyes if you don’t open ‘em.”

Isaac lets out a little huff of breath, and then does as he’s asked, opening his eyes and blinking away the sting of sunlight. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this, I really can’t. Oh my _god_.”

Scott raises an eyebrow, “Oh, give me a break – this isn’t nearly as bad as you scared yourself into thinking.”

“It’s… alright, I guess,” he responds – stubborn as ever – and grins, snuggling up against Scott, kissing his throat. “I’m just glad it’s not cold. I hate being cold.”

“I know you do,” Scott breathes, running his wet hands through Isaac’s mess of curls, before adding, “I’m proud of you for getting in.”

Isaac laughs, eyes crinkling up at the corners and if his black eye hurts when he does this, he doesn’t show it, “I’m proud of me, too. But all I did was get in – I still don’t know how to swim… Jesus, that’s dumb – what person doesn’t know how to swim?”

Scott scoffs, drawing shapes across Isaac’s back with his fingers, “Tons of people can’t swim. And anyway – so what if you can’t? You’re pretty close to perfect, if I’m being straight up honest with you.”

The smile that Isaac flashes him is like that of a little kid who’s just been praised, and then he waggles his eyebrows, “And you’re sexy.” He moves in for a kiss, and then says, “But seriously, if a shark comes–,”

Scott cuts him off with another kiss, deeper this time, holding Isaac close, “You’re so cute when you’re nervous,” he whispers, splashing him affectionately.

\-------------------------------

Sunday goes by a lot faster than Saturday, because Erica and Isaac end up dragging Scott to a fair downtown. There are game booths, mini rides, bumper cars, food trucks, and – most impressively – a Ferris wheel. Scott’s not the biggest fan of heights, but Isaac won’t shut up about wanting to go on it, so he gives in pretty quickly. After waiting in line for about ten minutes, they manage to get into the – rickety, Scott points out – seats and the big wheel starts to move. Isaac holds Scott’s hand as they climb higher and higher, until they’re all the way at the top and Scott takes in big gulps of air to keep himself calm.

“It’s so beautiful,” Isaac says, as they start heading back down towards the ground, their seat wobbling ever so slightly, “The sunset, I mean.”

Scott waits until they make their way back up to the very top again, and then blinks out at the horizon. Everything is visible from this height – the beach, the buildings, the water – and Isaac’s right; it’s just short of stunning.

He squeezes Isaac’s hand, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek, and whispers, “I like you so much.”

“Aw,” Isaac grins, eyes crinkling up at the corners, “I like you too, baby.”

Scott blushes at the pet name, nuzzling his nose against Isaac’s curls. When they get back up to the top, Isaac pulls him in for a kiss, deep and passionate. The sun is setting behind them and it’s fucking _perfect_ – Scott never wants it to end. He can remember how much he didn’t want to come here this summer, how much time he spent dreading the day when he and his mom would leave Beacon Hills for the beach. And yet, here he is, on a Ferris wheel, kissing a boy who makes him feel special and his heart feels like it could burst from how happy he is. 

When the ride ends, they get off hand-in-hand to find Erica flirting with one of the fair’s employees; a tall, skinny, semi-attractive twenty something with a nose ring and a rose tattoo on his shoulder. She glances over to them and makes eye contact with Isaac, who shoots her a look that seems to say, ‘be careful’, to which she responds with a tiny nod before diving back into her conversation with the dude.

The booths they have are pretty lame, but Isaac tries his hand at a basketball shooting game and ends up winning Scott a stuffed bear, which Scott thinks is adorable. He kisses him over and over for it; whispering stuff about how good Isaac was at the game and making the taller boy blush scarlet. They get dinner at one of the food trucks and decide that the bear’s name should be Arnold – “because it’s a fucking cute name,” Isaac says when Scott asks him. Even though he still wants to ask Isaac about his black eye, he knows it’s better to wait until he’s ready to talk, so he doesn’t mention it.

Everything goes smoothly until it gets to be around 9:20.

They’ve just finished eating and they’re looking for Erica. The fair closes at 9:30 and the siblings have to be home by 10, so they’re trying their best to find Erica so they can leave.

Isaac’s getting more and more frustrated the longer it takes to locate her, thinking out loud as they walk, “Fucking typical is what it is. She always does this – she’s so irresponsible, it’s ridiculous. You’d think she would know better than to go off with random people she doesn’t even–,”

“We don’t know that she went with him,” Scott interrupts, softly, trying to keep Isaac somewhat calm as he checks his phone for any texts he may have missed from her, “She might have just gotten lost.”

Isaac nods, letting out an angry groan – even though Scott can tell he’s scared, nervous. Erica might drive him crazy sometimes, but she’s his little sister and all he wants to do is protect her. They call her name a few times, ducking around corners and checking all the booths. It isn’t until they reach the Ferris wheel that they find her – near the empty operating booth – and it’s immediately obvious that she’s not okay. She’s sitting in the grass, legs pulled up to her chest with her arms wrapped around her knees. Isaac’s the first to reach her, kneeling beside her and placing a tentative hand on her back.

“Erica?”

Scott moves in behind Isaac to get a better look at her, and his eyes widen when he sees that her shirt is torn, her eyes red from crying.

“What happened?” Isaac whispers, even though both of them have already guessed, “Did – did that guy hurt you?”

She shakes her head, her lips trembling as she replies, “He tried – uhm… He tried to, but he didn’t do anything, I got away. I’m alright, really, I promise – I-I just want to go home.”

Isaac is tense, his jaw set and his eyes narrowed, “Erica, where is he? Did he get far? I swear to god, I’m going to fucking–,”

“No,” she whimpers, reaching out to grab hold of him, “Don’t, just… Just, please, let’s go home. _Please_.”

There’s a beat of silence, where Isaac just stares at his sister, a murderous look on his face, and then he relaxes, nodding, “Okay.”

The walk back to the car is quiet, and they’re all in a line; Scott holding Isaac’s hand while Isaac holds Erica’s with his other. Scott can tell that Isaac’s doing that thing where he blames himself for Erica’s misfortunes again. He can always tell with him, and he wishes he could just make everything all better, make it stop hurting for a little while, because if anyone deserves that, it’s Isaac.

When Scott gets into bed that night, he cuddles up with Arnold – seriously, why Arnold? – and thinks about everything that’s happened, everything he’s witnessed or been a part of since he got to the beach. He thinks about Erica’s seizure at the club, and how scared Isaac had been, even as he handled the whole thing like a pro. He thinks about their first date at the beach, the way Isaac had kissed him in the bookstore. But mostly, he thinks about how gorgeous Isaac looks when he’s smiling a real, genuine, crinkly-eyed smile, and allows himself to drift off to sleep with that image in his mind.

\-------------------------------

“Mom?” Scott pipes up on Monday night, while he and Melissa are sitting in the living room, the television tuned to one of those dumb housewife reality shows that she loves so much.

“Hm?” She mumbles, yawning.

“Does it, uhm,” he pauses, trying to think of the best way to word his question, “Does it bother you that I’ve been spending so much time with Isaac and Erica instead of with you? Because I was thinking about it earlier and I just, I feel bad because it’s our vacation – you and I – and I usually spend more time with you. If I’ve made you feel bad, I’m really sorry, because I don’t want–,”

“ _Honey_ ,” she cuts him off, putting a hand to his cheek, “It’s okay. To tell you the truth, I wouldn’t want you spending your summer any other way than how you’re spending it now. You’re seventeen – you shouldn’t have to hang out with me when you could be hanging out with your friends. Although, I would like to meet this boyfriend of yours soon, yeah?”

Scott smiles, leaning in to kiss her on the forehead, “Okay, mom. I’ll invite him over for dinner.”

\-------------------------------

“Will you come over for dinner tomorrow night?”

Isaac looks only slightly taken aback when Scott asks him this on Tuesday morning, while Erica’s setting out the tubs of ice cream for the day. Scott takes note that the bruise around his eye looks a lot better today, less purple and much less swollen.

“Are you – are you sure?” Isaac asks, leaning up against the storage room door, eyes fixed on Scott, “I mean, I don’t want to intrude or anything.”

“Of course I’m sure, my mom asked me to invite you.”

The taller boy looks down at his hands, which are fumbling with the hem of his t-shirt – a nervous habit that he does pretty often. Even if he weren’t making it totally obvious, Scott would still be able to tell that he’s anxious.

“But,” Isaac sighs; licking his lips quickly, “What if she doesn’t like me?”

Scott lets out a soft chuckle, reaching out to grip Isaac’s arms, holding him steady and stroking his thumbs across his skin, “Babe, she’s going to love you, I can guarantee that. She loves everyone, I swear, and she’s been dying to meet you.”

Isaac scrunches up his face, and Scott can’t resist leaning in to nip at his nose, making him laugh, “Alright, I’ll come, but you owe me so many hickeys if she ends up not liking me.”

“Mm,” Scott murmurs, nosing at his throat, “Deal.”

\-------------------------------

Wednesday night comes quickly, and Isaac shows up at their apartment at least ten minutes early. When Scott opens the door, he’s greeted by his tall, lanky – gorgeous – boyfriend wearing khaki pants and a button down shirt.

“Oh my god, you look _so_ cute, I might puke,” Scott says, hearts in his eyes and a huge smile on his face.

Isaac blushes and leans in to kiss Scott gently, “I wanted to look nice, less ‘bum on the sidewalk’ and more ‘actually gives a shit about the way he dresses’.”

“You look delicious,” the shorter boy whispers, a devilish grin on his face, before he pulls him over the threshold and shuts the door. “Dinner’s almost ready. Mom, Isaac’s here!”

A few seconds later, Melissa is stumbling out of the tiny kitchen, pulling off a pair of oven mitts and reaching out to shake Isaac’s hand, “Hello, Isaac, it’s so nice to finally meet you. Thanks for coming.”

“Thank you for having me,” Isaac replies, politely, “Scott talks about you all the time, he’s told me a lot about you.” 

Melissa grimaces, and chuckles, “Oh god, I certainly hope not. Anyway, please make yourself at home. Dinner should be ready in about ten minutes – I hope you like spaghetti.”

When she bustles back into the kitchen, whistling as she goes, Scott motions for Isaac to sit down next to him on the sofa. He’s quick to notice that Isaac’s fidgeting; twiddling his fingers, and reaches out to take hold of one of his hands. The gesture seems to calm him down almost instantly, and the thankful, puppy dog look he gives Scott in return is enough to make him blush.

Melissa calls them over to the table a few minutes later, and Scott helps her get the spaghetti onto plates and put everything on the table. Isaac looks stiff, awkward, sitting in a chair in the corner, and when Scott sets his plate down in front of him, he presses a quick, re-assuring kiss to the taller boys’ forehead. Once they’re all seated, they start to eat and Melissa begins to grill Isaac with questions – much to Scott’s dismay.

“So, where are you from, Isaac? You don’t live here, do you?”

Isaac shakes his head, swallowing a bite of his spaghetti, “No, I live in San Francisco. My father just likes to come here every summer – kind of a tradition, I suppose.”

“Hmm,” Melissa nods, “What does your father do for a living?”

“Well, back home, he’s the coach of our high school’s swim team,” Isaac replies, licking his lips nervously, “He used to run an army surplus store, but he closed it down after…”

Scott can tell Isaac was about to say “after my mom died”, and rests a warm hand on his leg under the table, changing the subject swiftly, “Mom, Isaac works at the ice cream shop with me, remember?”

“Oh, yes!” Melissa says, smiling brightly, unaware of Isaac’s discomfort at her previous question, “How is that? Scott hasn’t told me very much, now that I think about it.”

Isaac relaxes, glad to have something else to talk about, “It’s really, really fun. I love working with Scott and my sister – we have a blast. Plus Derek and Laura are great, they treat us like family, even though we’re always messing around.”

“Messing around?” Melissa asks, and before Scott can stop her, she adds, good-naturedly, “Is that how you got that shiner? Was it work related or did you get in a bar fight?”

Scott nearly kicks his mom’s leg, shooting her a mortified look, but Isaac doesn’t miss a beat, replying, “Neither, actually, but thank you for asking. The story of how I got it is pretty boring and I don’t want to bore you with it, if that’s alright.”

Melissa smiles, a knowing look in her eyes that Scott’s seen a million times before, and murmurs, “Of course. You seem like a sweet guy, Isaac, and you also seem to make my son very happy. I’d love to see more of you around here – you’ve got one of those faces that could brighten anyone’s day.”

Isaac blushes, grinning sheepishly, and chuckles when he says, “Thanks, Ms. McCall, no one’s ever told me that before.”

“Jeez, Mom,” Scott laughs, setting his fork down on his plate, “You’d think he was _your_ date from the way you’re buttering him up.”

“I’m just being honest!” Melissa responds, brushing some hair out of her eyes and reaching out to pinch Scott’s cheek, “I have to make sure my little boy’s in good, cute, sweet hands – and Isaac appears to meet those standards.”

Scott would never say it out loud, but hearing his mom say that, seeing the way she’s smiling at the two of them, knowing that she approves – it all means more to him than he could ever express.

They get through dessert in much the same fashion; Melissa asks Isaac about everything, his hobbies, his interests, his school, and Isaac answers all of her questions with charm and honesty, two traits he’s positively dripping with. By the end of the night, it’s hard to believe that Isaac was at all nervous in the first place. He seems to adjust so effortlessly to his surroundings, genuinely happy and content to be spending time with Scott and his mom. When they finish dessert, Isaac helps the two of them clear the table and wash the dishes (“This one’s definitely a keeper, honey,” Melissa whispers to Scott as Isaac scrubs at a bowl in the sink).

By the time it gets to be 9:30 and Isaac announces that he has to be getting home, Scott feels an honest to god _pang_ in his chest at how much he doesn’t want him to leave. He wishes he could just stay forever – if he asked Melissa, she probably wouldn’t protest – but he’s also happy to have gotten to spend the evening with him, glad to have been able to introduce him to his mother.

“You were a hit tonight, babe,” he whispers, once he and Isaac are outside and alone, arms wrapped around each other. “I think my mom’s in love with you?”

Isaac laughs – one of Scott’s favorite sounds, he thinks – and presses a kiss to the shorter boys’ lips, “I’m just so relieved that she likes me at all. I was trying really hard to, like… sound impressive or something. I don’t know, but your mom is great and I feel like I just passed a test.”

“I wish you didn’t have to go,” Scott murmurs, nosing lazily at Isaac’s neck, inhaling his scent.

“You’ll see me in the morning,” Isaac replies, matter-of-factly, and then breathes, “I like you.”

Scott smiles, because it’s cheesy but it’s their thing, “I like you, too.”

\-------------------------------

“You’re sure this is okay?”

It’s Saturday night, and Scott’s invited Isaac over to hang out because Melissa has gone on a date with a guy she met in the supermarket. When he’d first called him and told him to come, he hadn’t exactly mentioned the fact that his mother wouldn’t be there. So when Isaac had shown up, he’d been slightly nervous to discover that they were totally alone in the apartment.

“I’m sure,” Scott replies, taking Isaac’s hand and pulling him close, “My mom will never know, don’t worry.”

Isaac still looks anxious, but he nods, allowing Scott to guide him over to the sofa in front of the television. His eyes fall onto the DVDs scattered on the coffee table, and he grins, “You got Spider-Man for us to watch?”

“I remembered how you said he was your hero when you were a kid,” Scott murmurs, as Isaac moves to kiss him on the cheek, “I thought it would be fun to watch together.”

The taller boy nods again, vigorously, and then adds, “Only if there’s cuddles in it for me.”

Scott rolls his eyes, “Babe, it’s me – of _course_ there are, c’mere.”

Isaac scoots in close, wrapping his arms around Scott’s middle and resting his head in the crook of his neck. Scott presses a kiss to his forehead, ruffling his curls with his fingers as he pushes the ‘play’ button, and the movie begins. It’s almost as though Isaac has something to say about every single frame of the film, from the moment it starts. First, it’s commenting on how “creative” and “visually pleasing” the comic book-style opening credits are. Then he moves on to discuss how perfect Kirsten Dunst was for the role of Mary Jane, and how he couldn’t imagine anyone else playing the part. By the time they reach the half hour mark, Isaac’s rambling on about his opinion on the spider bite scene and Scott just grabs his face and kisses him for the simple goal of shutting him up.

Needless to say, it works.

Soon enough, the movie is forgotten about entirely – even though Isaac teasingly whispers something about how much he loves the film’s score into Scott’s mouth at one point – and Isaac’s on his back on the couch, gasping as Scott presses wet kisses to his collarbone.

“Wait,” Isaac murmurs, cupping his boyfriend’s face in his hands and looking straight into his eyes, “W-What are we doing?”

Scott furrows his eyebrows, nuzzling into Isaac’s touch like a cat, and replies, “We’re just kissing – we do it all the time, yeah? We don’t have to do anything you don’t feel comfortable with.”

“It’s not that,” Isaac mumbles, as Scott leans down to suck on his neck, “I-I’ve just never _done_ this before, and I… I don’t want to disappoint you.”

At this comment, Scott pulls back so he can really look at Isaac; he’s blushing a deep scarlet, eyes full of trust and there’s an expression on his face that seems to scream ‘please don’t make fun of me because I might die if you do’. Pressing his forehead to the taller boys’, he whispers, “You could _never_ disappoint me, baby. We’ll do whatever you want to do, okay? I just want you to be comfortable.”

Isaac nods and pulls him back frantically so their lips crash together once again, teeth and tongue – sweet, _so_ sweet, and hot as fuck at the same time. Scott’s whispering things against his lips, little praises and pet names that make Isaac shiver. When Isaac starts to tug at the hem of Scott’s t-shirt, a needy look in his eyes, Scott motions for them to move to his bedroom and they all but knock the coffee table over in their rush to get there.

“I want to touch you,” Isaac pants, once they’re on Scott’s bed, and he can feel the flush creeping onto his cheeks but he doesn’t care, “ _Please_ , Scott, I need…”

Scott lets Isaac trail off, lets him pull his shirt up over his head, lets him suck hickeys into his bare chest, because it’s too good and he can’t think straight. Isaac’s breathing is shallow, his cheeks flushed, and when he moves back up to kiss Scott, he can feel him trembling.

“Have you,” Scott breathes, in between kisses and gasps, “Have you ever…?”

Isaac pulls back to look him in the eyes, pressing his forehead to Scott’s, and murmurs, “Not really, no. Just… Just a blowjob, once – it was _awful_.”

Scott nods; brushing his lips against Isaac’s gently, his voice level when he says, “What do you want to do?”

“I just,” Isaac starts to say, blushing a faint pink, before finishing, “I want you – I want to do everything with you, baby.”

A rush of electricity shoots through him when Isaac refers to him by that pet name, and he can’t help the way he responds, reaching to cup the back of Isaac’s neck and pulling him down for another kiss. Clothes are shed quickly, if not clumsily – Scott nearly rolls off the bed trying to get Isaac’s pants off – and they melt into each other, a mess of tangled limbs and lips and tongues. Isaac clings to him as the only solid thing in the world, like if he doesn’t hold him close enough, Scott will evaporate into thin air. Everything is new and they’re sloppy and it’s _perfect_ in a way that neither of them ever expected anything to be.

Isaac rolls them over so he’s on top and even though it takes Scott by surprise, he goes along with it – because _duh_. When he feels him grinding his hips forward, he gasps at the friction and knots his fingers in Isaac’s hair.

“Can I?” Isaac asks, one of his hands resting on Scott’s thigh, just below the waistband of his briefs.

Scott just nods, because he’s not sure he could get any words out even if he tried, and Isaac is quick to hook his fingers in the stretchy material and tug it down, until Scott’s blushing and Isaac’s petting his hair affectionately. The way the taller boy is treating him, like he’s precious and special, makes him feel safe and completely comfortable with whatever they’re about to do. It’s like, no matter what happens, Scott won’t be anxious, not as long as Isaac keeps pressing kisses to his skin and murmuring praises in his ear.

And then Isaac’s wrapping a hand around Scott’s length and nipping at his bottom lip, and Scott lets out an involuntary moan. The noise only seems to spur him on, because now he’s rubbing up and down in slow strokes, working Scott like a fucking pro. Whoever that timid boy from earlier was, Scott thinks in between bouts of pleasure, this isn’t him anymore. He whimpers when Isaac’s pace speeds up, and Isaac kisses him again before letting go of him completely. Before Scott can protest, he’s moving down his body and taking him in his mouth and _oh_ , oh my _god_.

“Isaac, _shit_ ,” he gasps, because his mouth, his fucking _mouth_ , “You don’t have to–,”

Isaac cuts him off in the best way, rolling his tongue across the slit, and then pulls off to murmur, “I want to, I _really_ want to.”

Scott nods the tiniest nod in the world and Isaac just goes right back to what he was doing, sucking at the head of his dick and making him squirm. It’s strange, to say the least, because Scott’s never done anything like this before, not with anyone. He doesn’t have anything to compare this to, but in a weird way, that makes him happy.

In a weird way, he wouldn’t want this to be with anyone _but_ Isaac.

Isaac’s hands are on his legs, holding him still while he bobs his head up and down, up and down, sucking Scott down to the root and never stopping. Scott’s pretty sure he should be embarrassed, because he’s sweaty and red-faced and panting, but he isn’t. Isaac keeps shooting him these looks and his eyes are the only things keeping Scott calm, the only things keeping him sane. Even when his whole body feels like it’s on fire, like every nerve is alive and shooting sparks of electricity through him, he keeps himself focused on Isaac and everything is okay.

“ _Isaac_ ,” he moans, fingers knotted in his curly hair, hips moving in time with his mouth, “Gonna – _fuck_ – gonna come, _need_ it.”

The taller boy nods, replacing his mouth with his hand and pumping Scott, moving to suck a mark into the skin of his thigh. When he straightens back up to look Scott in the eyes, still working him quickly, tirelessly, Scott feels his muscles tighten and then he’s coming. It hits him like a freight train, knocking all the air out of him, pleasure coursing through him in huge waves as he spills over Isaac’s hand and onto his stomach.

When Isaac lets go of him, he leans down to run his tongue through the mess on Scott’s chest before realizing that the shorter boy is _shaking,_ little breathy pants escaping his lips. He crawls up the bed so that he’s level with Scott and pulls him into his arms, murmuring, “Shhh, it’s okay, I’ve got you.”

Scott nuzzles his nose into the crook of Isaac’s neck, smiling weakly when Isaac presses a kiss to the top of his head. His voice is barely above a whisper when he says, “What time is it? When do you need to be home?”

“It’s not even eight yet,” Isaac replies, after glancing at the clock on the wall, “We’ve got at least an hour and a half left.”

“Well, in _that_ case,” Scott chuckles, and then he’s moving up to kiss him, carding his fingers through his hair.

The rest of the night passes by in a blur; skin, lips, moans, touches, everything, everywhere, all at once. Scott’s never felt this way before, never felt this comfortable with anyone in his life. He’s been intimate with girls in the past, but not like this, _never_ like this. Isaac keeps murmuring little praises in his ear and it’s so much – Scott wishes he could stay here, in this moment, this night, this room with this amazing boy, forever.

When Scott returns the favor, jerking Isaac off until he comes with a shattered moan and curls in on himself shakily, there’s a moment that makes both of them freeze.

Isaac’s panting, still canting his hips in time with Scott’s hand, even as the shorter boy lets go of him, and he opens his mouth to gasp, “I love you, _god_ , Scott, I love you _so much_.”

At first, Scott just smiles, certain that it’s simply Isaac’s post-orgasm brain making him say it in the first place. But then he chances a look down at him, meets his gaze, and there’s something he’s never seen before in his eyes now; absolute, total trust. Scott can’t help but stare at the faint purple bruise that still mars his skin and it takes him a second, but he finally understands. He realizes that this isn’t something Isaac says often, if at all, and that when he does say it, it’s special and it means something.

It means _everything_.

So, he finally replies, with no hesitation or doubt, whispering, “I love you, too.”

And then Isaac’s lips twist into this dumb, goofy grin and Scott feels like he could _melt._ (Or fly – either one.) They manage to get themselves tangled up in the sheets again; legs wrapped around waists, fingers scratching at shoulder blades, heels digging into flesh. When the clock on the wall reads 9:45, they almost don’t notice, and if it weren’t for the jarring alarm that Scott set up on his phone prior to all of this, they would probably have missed Isaac’s curfew.

It takes about five minutes for both of them to get themselves together, finding their clothes and smiling sheepishly, faces flushed. Once Isaac’s got everything he came with, Scott walks him to the front door and pauses on the threshold to kiss him good night.

“Thanks,” Scott murmurs, before he can stop himself, running a nervous hand through his hair, “For, you know…”

Isaac laughs, one of his genuine, embarrassing laughs that always make Scott laugh along with him, and replies, “The blowjob? The frottage? The hickeys? I could say the same to you – but that would be pretty lame.”

Scott blushes a deep red, bringing his hands up to cover his face, “I know, I can’t believe I just said that, oh my _god_.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” Isaac shakes his head, pulling Scott’s hands away to look into his eyes, grinning, “You’re really cute when you’re flustered – cuter than usual, I mean.”

Scott lights up at the praise, like he always does, and when he leans in to press his lips to Isaac’s, slowly, he whispers, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Isaac breathes, like it’s all he knows in the world.

“See you tomorrow?”

Isaac smirks, kissing the tip of his nose, “Of course.”

\-------------------------------

**[To: Isaac]** _You love me :)_

**12:15 am:** _Yep, I do. Now shut up and go to sleep, you smug little shit._

**[To: Isaac]** _I love you too, meanie._

**12:19 am:** _You’re adorable._

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is my favorite thing in the world, so be sure to leave me some (◠ω◠✿)


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